Personal Demon
by llnbooks
Summary: The first mistake a ghost can make is attacking a Ghostbuster. The second mistake is thinking a little thing like a coma would stop Holtzmann from busting ghosts. (AU; character whump, not a death fic, slight JH/OC otherwise no pairings) Book#1 of 4.
1. Chapter 1

**GHOSTBUSTERS (2016)**

" **Personal Demon"**

 _Disclaimers_ _: I don't own the characters. Columbia Pictures, Ghost Corps, Paul Feig and Katie Dippold, Dan Aykroyd, and Harold Ramis and a bunch of other studios and folks own the crew, I'm just borrowing them for a little bit because this story was a thorn in my brain that I had to remove before it drove me crazy. I also deliberately borrowed or paraphrased a couple of my favorite lines from the original "Ghostbusters" because they just seemed to fit those points in the story and I couldn't resist. Those dialogue bits obviously belong to the incomparable writers Dan Aykroyd and Harold Ramis. I haven't had a chance to read all the other fanfics for this movie (yet), so I apologize if this is similar to anyone else's ideas. All original characters are strictly fictitious and not based on any other person, real or imagined._

 _I have to give recognition to Nancy Holder's movie novelization, since she was the one who mentioned Holtzmann and her coma guys and alluded the CERN incident, that was too irresistible for me not to spin in my own direction (yes, I'm one of those who reads movie novelizations when I get impatient waiting for the actual movie to be released). It's also based on Holtzmann's speech at the end of the movie. I'm not a particle physicist or an engineer, so forgive me my science ignorance. To say I'm taking liberties with the characters' backstories would be understating, so AU warning._

 _Also, blame the theater for playing that darn Cat Stevens song every time I go watch this movie. I feel compelled to say I enjoy his music very much, I'm sure the Hadron Collider would never work the way it does in this story, and M.I.T. is a fine institution. Opinions expressed are strictly for creative purposes so hopefully we all have a sense of humor._

 _Rating_ _: PG-13 (or T or whatever) for strong language (stronger and more of it than I'd normally use), major whump, and for adult themes and situations. There is mild H/OC, but not what I'd really call a pairing. No pairings for the regular characters, just friendship. Spoilers abound._

 **1**

" _ **Don't Get Caught Alone"**_

Patty Tolan had the gas pedal to the floor. Ecto-1 tore down the streets faster than she would normally dare, full lights and sirens going, but she had the sinking certainty in the pit of her stomach that it still wasn't going to be fast enough.

Holtzmann normally handled the driving. Patty didn't know such a little hiccup of a girl could maneuver the converted hearse-which was heavy enough without being loaded down top to bottom with additional equipment on the roof and a couple hundred pounds of the Ghostbusters' gear in the back-so easily at such breakneck speeds. _Maybe if you wanted to survive driving in New York, being slightly insane helped._ At this speed, Patty was just praying not to mow down some poor pedestrian or lose control and slam through a storefront. Mercifully, it was later in the evening and the traffic wasn't quite as bad as during the day or she was certain she'd have crashed before she made it three blocks from the firehouse at this pace.

She didn't slow down for so much as an instant. She blared the horn in unison with the siren. She screamed obscenities that a good God-fearing woman probably shouldn't utter. She was pretty sure she had taken that last corner on just two wheels. But, she didn't slow down.

Ten minutes ago, Patty had been watching reruns of _Grey's Anatomy_ back at the firehouse. She was on call for the Ghostbusters that night, which was basically a snooze-fest since there had been almost no paranormal activity in the city since they'd shut down Rowan and his plans for the Apocalypse. She only half-listened when the phone rang, except to make sure that Kevin (their mostly-useless receptionist and her company until ten p.m.) actually managed to answer the call.

"Ghostbusters," Patty heard him say. There was a short pause, followed by: "No, sorry, we already have a Holtzmann here. Thanks." Then, there was the unmistakable sound of the handset being place back on its cradle.

Patty rolled her eyes and pushed herself up off of the couch. "Kevin, sweetie, did you just hang up on Holtzmann? Didn't your mamma teach you not to piss off crazy women who carry weaponized unlicensed nuclear accelerators? You want to wake up with your face burned off? That won't help your acting career." Shaking her head, Patty pulled out her cell phone and dialed Holtzmann's apartment. "Holtz-"

" _Patty_! _Help_!"

Before Patty's mind had fully registered the terrified words or identified the background noise as the sound of one of Holtzmann's "ghost grenades" detonating, she was already moving. "Holtz, what's happening-?"

There was the sound of a crash, like heavy furniture being upended, and the line went dead.

"Jillian?! Hello? Damn it!" Patty was already down the fire pole. She ran for the lockers and started loading proton packs, the chipper, the glove, and several more grenades into Ecto-1 with one hand. With the other, she thumbed a pre-set number in her phone. "Abby? It's Patty. Get over to Holtz's apartment now, something bad's going down….I mean bad as in ghost grenades are going off, just get over there! And call Erin. I'm bringing the gear."

It felt to Patty like it was taking an eternity for what in reality must have only been a five minute ride. Abby's apartment was closest to Holtzmann's place; she might get there before Patty, but it would take her a couple extra minutes to stop for Erin, and Patty didn't know what the hell Abby and Erin could do without weapons if the proton grenade wasn't slowing down whatever was attacking their friend.

Patty's gratitude when she finally turned onto Holtzmann's street was short-lived. The first thing she saw was smoke and gushing water pouring from what she hoped in vain wasn't Jillian's building. The crowd that had gathered on the stoop and the sidewalk parted at the noise of Ecto-1's siren. She brought the vehicle to a stop practically on Holtz's doorstep just as Abby Yates and Erin Gilbert pushed their way through the spectators.

Abby tore open the back door before Patty had even climbed out. She was snatching up her pack, the PKE meter, and the proton glove, not stopping to waste precious time changing out of her flannel pajamas into her jumpsuit. "Patty, do you know what we're dealing with?" she shouted to Tolan.

"All I know is Holtz called for help and the line went dead. I'm pretty sure I heard her set off a grenade. Your guess is as good as mine," Tolan snatched up her own pack and the chipper.

Erin had paused to study the scene. There were chunks of brick and mortar littering the sidewalk, roughly the same size as the holes in the side of the building…holes in the walls of the second story apartment she knew belonged to Holtzmann. The front window had been shattered; glass had rained everywhere. The water cascading down the stoop to flood the sidewalk was definitely coming from the second story.

Then, Erin saw Abby running into the building with Patty on her heels. She rushed to grab her pack and follow them inside. "Abby, slow down! We don't know what's waiting up there!"

Abby flatly ignored Erin; her focus was on getting to Jillian. She barreled up the interior stairs, taking them two at a time in her haste, trying not to lose her footing on the wet steps. She spared a glance at the PKE meter. It spun idly. "There's nothing on the PKE, no sign of any ghost activity."

Tolan tapped Abby's shoulder. "I think that might be a sign." She was pointing to the exterior of Holtzmann's apartment. More chunks had been shot out of the wall. The tiny, singed holes were obviously made by beams from Holtzmann's proton pistols. She'd been shooting at something. The torrent water was coming from inside the apartment.

There was another small group of people gathered around Holtzmann's door. A dark-haired man in a bathrobe was trying to break open the door by ramming it with his shoulder. Patty would think he'd notice that there were five different deadbolt's on Holtz's door; his shoulder would break before that door would open on a good day-and that was assuming something otherworldly wasn't holding it shut from the inside.

The neighbor man glimpsed the women out the corner of his eye. When he caught sight of the Ghostbuster uniform Patty wore, he nearly slumped from relief and fatigue. Abby vaguely recalled he lived in the apartment above Holtzmann's. His name was Brian or Bobby or something, she remembered it was definitely something with a "B". At the moment, she couldn't have cared less.

"You're Jillian's friends, right? The Ghostbusters? We can't get the door open," he said to Tolan. "We've been trying."

Abby drew her proton wand with one hand and banged on the door with her other. "Jillian?! Can you hear me? Are you all right?"

Erin noticed a little girl sitting on the dry steps above, watching the activity below. Her face was pale and her brown eyes wide with shock. She'd obviously seen something, maybe she'd been there when…

Cautiously, she approached the child. "Hi, I'm Erin."

"I'm not supposed to talk to strangers," the girl retorted.

"It's okay. I'm here to help," Erin promised. The girl blinked, which Erin hoped was consent to talk. "Did you see what happened here?"

"I did," the dark-haired man overheard and answered for the child. "I'm Brian; that's my daughter Tamara. We were here when…Tamara sometimes plays with the circuit breakers." He gestured to the master control panel for the building, which—in the landlord's infinite wisdom-was located in the main hallway and had no cover or cage to block access to the switches. "I tell her not to, but…she shut off the power to Jillian's apartment. I was bringing her over to apologize when…" Brian went just a bit pale thinking about it. "I…honestly, I'm not sure what happened. Jillian saw something or heard something. She shoved Tamara and me out into the hallway. I thought maybe the power being off messed up one of her experiments and maybe she just needed to calm down, but-all of a sudden it was like everything in the apartment exploded. There were books and silverware and furniture flying everywhere. I didn't see anything, but something must have been there because it dragged her back inside and slammed the door. We can't get it open."

There was more to the story. All the while that Brian and the other neighbors had been trying to get in, they had heard the sounds of explosions and breakage from inside the apartment, the crackle of some sort of electricity or energy. Then the water began to pour from beneath the door. There was one more large crash after that.

Then there was silence.

He didn't get a chance to tell them. Abby was aiming her proton wand at the door. "I can open it. Jillian! If you hear me, get clear of the door!"

Patty, Erin, and the neighbors heeded her warning, turning their backs as Abby fired. One shot and the proton stream splintered the door, sending pieces flying in all directions.

Abby barreled into the apartment, weapon at the ready, calling: "Jillian?! Do you hear me?"

Patty and Erin were close behind. Tolan gasped at the sight that greeted them. "Holy-some bad shit went down here," she muttered.

As she had outside, Erin kept her growing panic in check by trying to be clinical in analyzing the scene. It clearly had been one hell of a fight. There was not one piece of furniture, appliance, or knick-knack that hadn't been toppled, overturned, or broken. The immediate source of the water was the kitchen sink. The faucet had been blown off (or torn off) and water overflowed the sink and spilled across the floor. The couch lay on its back. It had been impaled by multiple pieces of silverware.

Erin counted two spent proton grenades on the floor. There were burns from Holtzmann's one of proton pistols all around the room. _Where were the pistols?_ Erin didn't see the weapons anywhere. At Holtzmann's unwavering insistence, all of the Ghostbusters kept at least a couple of the ghost grenades or one of the small proton pistols at their personal residences, just in case a vengeful specter made a home visit.

A majority of the living room was a home version of Jillian's workstation at the firehouse. The workbench had been overturned; tools and pieces of new inventions were strewn from one end of the room to the other.

Holtzmann's cell phone lay amidst a pile of books, tools, gadgets, and few knick-knacks. It was fried. Erin was shocked to see her own phone number permanently burned into the screen. Jillian had obviously been dialing her when the phone was destroyed. The phone for the landline was a twisted heap of melted wires.

Abby disappeared down the short hallway to the apartment's only bedroom, still calling Holtzmann's name. Patty was picking her way through the debris in the apartment, fear growing to dread the longer the silence dragged on without a sign of their friend.

"Abby—this is going to sound stupid, but do you notice something strange about all this?" Erin called.

Yates returned to the living room. She was pale, distracted, and barely tuned in to what Erin was saying. "Like-?"

"Like…no ectoplasm. No AP-xH shift. Almost no readings on the PKE meter despite the obvious psychokinetic activity that did all this…" Erin catalogued.

"Are you saying it wasn't a ghost? Cause I'm pretty sure Holtz knows a ghost when she sees one," Patty said.

Erin couldn't argue that. "I'm saying what kind of ghost wouldn't leave a single trace that it was ever here?"

Abby was barely keeping a rein on her panic at the moment. She bit her tongue to keep from lashing out at Erin. Their friend was trying to help the best way she knew how-by solving a puzzle-but at that moment, Abby didn't care about identifying the specter. There'd be time for that after they found-

Water was running from beneath the bathroom door. Abby hadn't noticed it the first time she'd ran through the hallway. There was definitely the sound of water gushing coming from the other side of the door. Sudden comprehension sent Abby charging at the door, smashing it open with one kick.

The scene that greeted Abby was going to give her nightmares for the rest of her life. The bathroom was in the same shambles as the rest of the apartment: Cabinet doors torn from their hinges. Faucets ripped from the sink and showers, sending torrents of water that overflowed the bathtub and flooded the room. Holtzmann's proton pistols floated out of the room when Abby battered the door open. The toilet had been torn off its base. The tank lid was smashed in half…and smeared with blood.

Holtzmann was slumped at the center of the room, sprawled half across the side of the overfull bathtub, face down in the water. Blood from a gash at her temple washed away in the flow of the water, tinting it red.

"Erin! Patty! She's here!" Abby shouted.

She dove for Jillian, gathering her up out of the water. Her friend was pale as death. Her lips were tinted blue. A nasty bruise was already forming beneath the wound on her head. Abby pressed trembling fingers to Jillian's throat, praying for a heartbeat and finding none.

"No, no, no, come on, Jillian."

Suddenly, Patty was there, kneeling beside Holtzmann. Her expression was grim. "I can't find a pulse," Abby said.

Patty swore beneath her breath, shrugging out of the cumbersome proton pack so she could move around the tight quarters of the debris-littered bathroom. She handed it to Erin. "Abby, lay her down flat. Hurry."

NYC had trained their subway workers for what to do in an emergency. Patty had taken plenty of CPR classes. They all began with the same warning from her instructors: _Real life is not like the movies. There will be many times that CPR will not work. You will crack or break their ribs in the process. If you are not careful, you will break the tip of the sternum and puncture their lungs or their heart._ Patty had to perform CPR once on a passenger who collapsed on the platform. It had been every bit as ugly as her instructors had warned.

This wasn't a stranger in the subway. This was Jillian. Patty had to try. Uttering prayers, Patty found the correct spot on Holtzmann's chest, laced her fingers together, and started the compressions. In the background, she heard Erin dialing for an ambulance.

Patty counted off the compressions. "Abby-you gotta breathe for her."

Abby nodded. She knew what to do. Hands trembling, she tilted Jillian's head back, pinched her nose shut, and blew air into her mouth.

Another virtual eternity passed with Patty continuing the compressions, wincing when she felt bone snap beneath her palms. _Sorry, baby girl_ , _I gotta do this_ , she silently begged her friend's forgiveness.

Erin stood in the doorway, feeling utterly powerless to help other than guard against the return of whatever ghost had done this to their friend. Each passing second heightened her fear…

…and then Holtzmann coughed. Erin nearly sagged to the floor in the rush of relief and gratitude. Abby stifled a sob, wiping impatiently at her eyes against tears that threatened. She took Jillian's cold hand into her own, squeezing tight, hoping for some response.

"That's right, breathe, baby girl," Patty encouraged, rolling Holtzmann as gently as she could to her side, mindful of what were surely cracked ribs, as her friend coughed up water. "Holtz? You hear me?"

Jillian's eyes opened, two small slits of blue, then closed again.

There was a shout from the direction of the living room as the paramedics arrived. Erin met them halfway, "Here!" She was a little surprised to spy Hawkins and Rorke—the mayor's personal Men in Black-guarding the apartment door, keeping spectators at bay. They must monitor the emergency channels, probably recognized Holtzmann's address. As long as they didn't interfere, Erin was grateful for their help.

Time sped up into a blur of activity. Patty stepped out of the tiny bathroom to allow room for the medics. Abby made herself small as possible in the narrow space where the toilet had once stood, but refused to relinquish her death grip on Jillian's hand despite the medics' efforts to shoo her out of the room.

The paramedics fired questions non-stop as they swiftly set to work: What was their patient's name? How long had she been unconscious? How long was she down? Did she have any food or medicinal allergies? Was she taking any medications? Did she have family to notify? Abby had known Holtzmann the longest, knew her better than anyone. She automatically supplied what answers she could, watching numbly while they worked setting up an i.v., inspecting the nasty head wound, checking Jillian's pupils, and continued the barrage of questions at the Ghostbusters.

Erin was trying not to do the math in her head, but her mind automatically calculated that Holtzmann had called Patty eleven minutes ago and tried to dial Erin nine minutes ago. _That meant she could have been in the water anywhere from one minute to…no, don't calculate how the odds of survival drop with each minute without oxygen._ Erin stopped herself from thinking about it anymore. _She's here. She's breathing. Focus on that._

The medics carefully lifted Holtzmann onto a backboard; it was the only way to carry her over the wreckage of the apartment to the waiting gurney and from there to the ambulance. Abby climbed into the ambulance without bothering to ask permission, pausing only to leave her gear with Erin at the medics' insistence.

"We'll be right behind you, Abby," Erin called. Abby was so preoccupied that Erin wasn't sure if she'd heard.

The medics closed the doors and the ambulance sped away, leaving Patty and Erin there. Together, they trudged back to Ecto-1. Patty felt somewhat shaky, which she supposed was the shock of everything that had just gone down.

"There's like no chance that whatever did this randomly singled out Holtz, is there?" Patty asked.

"A ghost just happened to pop up in a Ghostbuster's apartment by random chance? I don't think so. This wasn't a haunting. It was personal. This thing tried to kill her," Erin answered.

Patty had an unpleasant flashback to Rowan dangling Holtzmann from a second story window, intent on pitching her to her death. "It's coming back for her, then, isn't it?"

Erin nodded. She'd be willing to bet on it.


	2. Chapter 2

_A.N.: Same warnings abound for language, sci-fi violence, and intense situations. And I still don't own the characters (see chapter 1 for full disclaimers and credits)._

 **2**

" _ **Coma Guys & Mr. Snickers' Secrets"**_

 _The strange woman didn't look like a particle physicist nor an engineer. In her battered black leather jacket, yellow-lens goggles, vest, torn jeans, and black t-shirt that read "Heavily Medicated" in blurry white letters, the tiny blonde gave the impression of a biker chick who had made a wrong turn in the hallway before ending up at Abby Yates' door. The duffel bag slung over her shoulder was nearly as big as the woman._

 _Maybe she was some liberal arts student who got lost looking for the Drama department?_

" _I'm sorry, sweetie, this is the Paranormal Studies laboratory. Liberal Arts is one flight up, the bathrooms are down the hall, Auto shop is on the other side of the campus." Abby didn't bother moving from behind her workbench, where she was puzzling over a pile of circuit boards and wires she hoped would somehow morph into a mass spectrometer. "If you're looking for Dr. Rivera's Botany class, it's been moved upstairs. And no, he didn't leave any of the hemp plants here."_

 _The blonde tilted her head just a bit. "Hmm. Well, that's good information, and I will make a note of that last bit for future reference, but I'm looking for Abby Yates?" She pointed to the name plate that read 'Abby Yates' on the laboratory door._

" _You're Dr. Holtzmann?" Abby stared despite herself._

" _Not what you were expecting." It wasn't a question._

 _Belatedly, Abby realized she was being rude. "I'm sorry. Yes, I'm Dr. Yates. Come in," she waved Holtzmann into the room, meeting her halfway with a handshake. "Have a seat. Can I get you some water or…" Abby sighed at the battered kitchenette and broken refrigerator. "…um, I pretty much only have water."_

 _Holtzmann searched for a chair or some indication where she should sit. All she found was a stool, so she scooted it over to Abby's workbench. She set the duffel bag at her feet. "No, thanks."_

 _Abby searched the pile of papers stacked on the t.v. tray that served as her desk until she found the print out of the application Holtzmann had emailed. "Thank you for applying, Ms. Holtzmann. I should say up front that I have many qualified applicants for the research assistant position…"_

" _Really?" The blonde raised an eyebrow, clearly in doubt._

" _Yes." Something about the woman's unblinking stare had the effect of truth serum. Abby tried not to squirm. "No," she admitted, hiding her blush by studying the paper in front of her. "You didn't list an address on your application."_

" _Eight-Nine East Forty-Second Street."_

 _Abby actually started to write it down, until she realized: "Wait…that's Grand Central Terminal?"_

 _Holtzmann shrugged in answer._

 _Abby felt another twinge of apprehension. "That's where you work currently?"_

" _No, I have a little grate on the sidewalk there. Do you need a platform number? The mail service is kind of a bummer, but George at the Swatch Store can always get me a message."_

 _Yates couldn't tell if the woman was being sarcastic, messing with her, or completely serious. Was this some kind of prank arranged by one of the other university professors, all of whom considered their fields of study much more 'respectable' than Abby's and had no qualms about telling her as much._

 _Holtzmann seemed serious enough, and that just made Abby feel guilty. She decided it was best to change the subject. "So, your latest employment was…particle physicist at the CERN Hadron Collider?" That shocked Abby. What the hell would Holtzmann want with a research job if that were true? This surely had to be a joke. "That's…Impressive. But, you were only there three months. May I ask why you left?"_

" _There was…there was an accident. I almost generated a black hole in the middle of Switzerland." There was not a whit of humor in her tone to indicate a joke. In fact, Holtzmann had tensed a bit before answering. Abby now knew for sure…she wasn't joking at all, not about sleeping on the street or the black hole._

" _That could have been awkward," was all Abby could think to say._

" _They thought so, too."_

 _One part of Abby's mind urged her to end the interview now. She had enough trouble without having a partner who was prone to lab accidents._

 _On the other hand…the woman had almost created a freaking black hole. In a weird way, Abby kind of found that rather awesome. Terrifying, but awesome. Another part of her mind wanted to press on with the interview just to hear what other surprises the eccentric physicist was hiding up her sleeve._

 _Abby didn't have to wait long. Holtzmann reached into her duffel bag and drew out a copy of Abby's book: "Ghosts From Our Past" So, she was the one who had bought the other copy, Yates mused._

" _This is you, right?" Holtzmann asked. "Is this what you're studying here?"_

" _Yes and yes. Can we just get back to the interview?" Abby hurriedly redirected the conversation before Holtzmann asked her more questions about the book or its co-author. The subject was still too painful. "After CERN, there seems to be a little gap in your employment history. May I ask what you've been doing for the last year?" Abby could have supplied the answer on her own. She couldn't imagine there were too many research facilities anxious to hire a scientist who had almost generated a planet-killing vortex in the middle of Switzerland. No wonder the poor kid was sleeping on the streets and applying for research assistant jobs for which she was clearly overqualified._

 _Holtzmann didn't answer right away this time. She pursed her lips, apparently having some inner monologue with herself about how to answer the question. She knew the dark-haired woman would probably kick her back to the curb as soon as she heard the reply. Better to give Yates a straight answer than bullshit her just to drag out the interview to delay the inevitable rejection. "I was in a lovely facility upstate taking happy pills and building particle accelerators out of Popsicle sticks in the day room. The rest is fairly self-explanatory."_

 _Abby took a very deep breath. "O-kay, let's zoom past that for a minute. You worked at Hudson Aerospace Innovations before CERN. You were a protégé of Dr. Gorin? Wow." To say it was an exclusive club of scientists who were chosen as her personal protégé was like saying Tesla cars were slightly pricey._

" _Yeah, well, I wouldn't call her for a reference right now. She's kind of ticked off about the black hole thing."_

 _Abby nodded. "Noted. May I-"_

" _Ask why I was fired? I chained my supervisor to a cooling pipe."_

Oh, holy crap _… Abby knew she wasn't hiding her surprise this time, but she was seriously wondering if she should be afraid for her safety at this point. "That kind of informs the eventual therapy stint, doesn't it? Any particular reason?"_

 _Holtzmann frowned. "He messed with my babies."_

" _Oh. So, you have children?"_

" _No."_

 _Abby had heard enough. She set the application aside, scratching her head as to how to phrase what she wanted to say. "Dr. Holtzmann, it doesn't seem like Paranormal Physics has been your area of interest. Can I just ask: Do you believe in spooks, specters, wraiths, geists, ghosts, UFOs, astral projection, mental telepathy, ESP, clairvoyance, spirit photography, full-trance mediums, psychokinetic or telekinetic movement, cartomancy, phrenology, black and/or white magic, divination, scrying, necromancy, the Loch Ness Monster, and the theory of Atlantis?"_

 _Holtzmann had leaned forward, absorbing every word of Abby's lengthy list with all seriousness before finally waving a hand. "Let me stop you right there, Doc..."_

 _Abby braced herself for whatever mockery or scorn or derision was about to follow. Nothing like having a recent mental patient laugh off your work as 'insane' to make you take stock of your life…_

" _If there's a steady paycheck in it, I'll believe whatever the hell you want."_

 _It definitely wasn't the answer Abby was expecting. This strange person was making a habit of rendering Abby speechless. Darned if she didn't actually like her, too, despite her eccentricities. She'd be lucky to have help from a scientist with Holtzmann's skill set. But, the warning signs were there, clear as blinking neon lights reading: Do not hire this person if you ever want your work taken seriously._

 _Abby heard herself say, "It doesn't seem like a good fit. I'm sorry…"_

 _She wanted to take them back almost as soon as she'd said them._

 _For her part, Holtzmann merely shrugged. She'd had rejections from every single laboratory she'd applied for since CERN and the hospital stay. It wasn't exactly as shock that Dr. Yates turned her down, too. Hell, there was probably a flashing red memo line about Holtzmann posted on every job search website warning: Do not hire this nutter-butter. Yates must not have got the memo. Once again, this had been a waste of time. Jillian needed to get back to the train station before her warm grate was taken for the night._

 _As she slung her bag over her shoulder, Holtzmann imparted one observation. "Your mass spectrometer has issues."_

 _Abby paused. "You can tell that from over here?" She was impressed that Holtzmann could deduce what she was building just by looking at the collecting of parts and wires._

 _Now, Holtzmann smiled. "You also took a stab at building a psychokinetic energy meter on your own." She gestured to another contraption Abby had shoved into a cubby hole after becoming frustrated with trying to get the device working. "It's very cute. But, if you don't adjust your energy flow and put some shielding in place, you're going to scatter your own atoms if you fire up that bad boy. Unless that's what you were going for? Here…"_

 _Holtzmann reached into her bag and pulled out what looked like a fully functional PKE meter, if one looked beyond the tin foil and rubber bands and general impression that it was built out of dumpster scraps. "…I took the liberty of whipping this up after I read your book. It's a little rough."_

 _Abby accepted the device, awestruck. "Does this actually work?"_

" _Dunno…got a ghost we can test it on?"_

 _She considered the device. Holtzmann could build a gadget out of dumpster scraps that Abby hadn't been able to complete in three months of trying with a laboratory at her disposal. Abby couldn't afford to let this much skill walk out of her lab, and she knew it. Torn, Abby wondered what she'd be signing up for letting this strange woman into her lab._

" _It's…I'm genuinely terrified of you. Just a little bit, but still," Abby admitted._

 _Holtzmann understood. "I get that a lot."_

 _What the hell. "Okay, then...but you have to promise not to chain me to anything, and definitely don't generate black holes in the lab."_

" _Fine."_

The bang of the ambulance doors startled Abby from her thoughts. She hadn't noticed that they'd arrived at the hospital until a phalanx of medics converged on the ambulance. They whisked Jillian out of Abby's grip and into the emergency entrance, exchanged information with the paramedics, and rapid-fired questions at Yates as she followed the group down the hallway. A doctor whose name tag read "Menken" stopped Abby at the door to the E.R.

"Sorry, family only past this point," he told her.

"We are her family!" Abby snapped at him.

Dr. Menken had received a call from the mayor's office before the ambulance bearing the Ghostbuster had reached the hospital doors. He'd been told in no uncertain terms to be fully cooperative with them. Menken intended to cooperate only if these paranormal yahoos did nothing to put his patients in danger. The mayor's authority would not override Menken's where their welfare was concerned.

"I need family authorization to treat Ms. Holtzmann."

Abby snatched the clipboard from his hand, scribbling her name across the bottom. "I told you, we're her family. I can sign, I have her P.O. A. in case of emergency." She shoved the papers back at him. "Is she going to be all right?"

Menken's expression softened into something akin to sympathy. "We'll do everything we can. Have a seat. And don't bring your gear in here if you want to see your friend. I'm not going to have any of your radioactive contraptions polluting this hospital."

With that, he disappeared behind the E.R. doors.

"Radioactive contraptions. Man, that guy is lucky Holtz didn't hear him insult her babies. She'd probably pull his bottom lip over his head and make him eat his own face." Patty's voice right behind nearly made Abby jump out of her skin. She hadn't heard Patty and Erin arrive or the procession of police cars that had escorted Ecto-1 right to the hospital doors.

Erin wrapped an arm around Abby's shoulders and urged her away from the E.R. doors to the cafeteria, which Rorke and Hawkins had cleared out to give them privacy. Rorke moved to station himself outside the cafeteria while Hawkins took up a protective position in front of E.R.

Abby made her way to one of the tables and slumped into the chair, her gaze riveted to the unmoving E.R. doors. Erin and Patty sat across from her.

"Seriously, though, Abby, does Holtzmann have family or someone we ought to be calling?" Patty wanted to know.

Abby shook her head. "She doesn't know her biological parents. The Holtzmanns were her adopted parents, and they died when she was five. From what Jillian told me, her foster families were a parade of freaks. There's no one. Just us."

Coming from an extended, close-knit family, hearing that just about tore out Patty's heart. She had another concern: "So, how are we going to protect our baby girl if we can't bring our weapons in here?"

Intellectually, she understood Menken's attitude. Hospitals were full of oxygen tanks and all kinds of things that could explode if something (like, say, a proton stream) hit them. It was also true that their gear gave off low level radiation. Holtzmann said it was safe in small doses, no worse than getting an x-ray, but who knew if it would affect the various monitors and machinery in the building.

On the other hand, there was still a ghost out there somewhere that was coming after Jillian. It was going to have to come through Patty to get her, and Menken had best keep out of the way.

Erin had wondered how she was going to bring this up without seeming insensitive. "I found a security camera in Holtz's apartment." She placed the camera on the table. It looked like a teddy bear, except for the nasty 3-D printed fangs that Holtzmann had glued to its mouth. The bear had a little i.d. tag that read: "Mr. Snickers".

"That is disturbing," Patty said.

Erin kind of liked the thing, but that wasn't important at the moment. "The card's still intact. The camera might have caught something. We need some kind of idea what we're dealing with here."

"You mean 'who', not 'what'," Patty added.

Abby shook her head vehemently. "I'm not…I can't watch that."

"It's okay, Abs. I'll take care of it." Erin wasn't thrilled with the idea, either, but at least it was something productive she could do to distract herself from worrying.

"Abby, do you think any of those freaks you mentioned might be the ghost we're dealing with?" Patty wanted to know.

It was on Abby's lips to say no. The only ghosts she knew from Jillian's past were her adopted parents, and it wasn't at all likely one of them had attacked her. But, then, there were others...

 _Abby and Holtzmann had been working in the laboratory one afternoon, not long after she had recruited Jillian as her research partner (it had quickly become apparent that "assistant" wasn't a fitting title). Holtzmann was hip deep in upgrading the PKE, blaring music and dancing like she frequently did while she worked. "It helps me think," she'd told Abby._

 _Then one particular song came on the radio: Cat Stevens singing "Wild World". Abby personally loved the song. Holtzmann must have felt differently: Without warning, she suddenly hurled her wrench and knocked the radio off the shelf, silencing the music. Then she went back to work like that was the most normal thing in the world for her to have done._

 _Abby hadn't looked up from her own project. "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."_

 _Holtzmann cringed a bit at her own outburst. "Sorry."_

" _It's just…there's an off button. And a little clicker. That's all I'm going to say."_

 _Abby might not have thought anything more of it. Most people had songs that brought up bad memories. She wondered, naturally, but she never intended to mention it again…until a few weeks later._

 _The university had renewed their grant, so Abby and Jillian went out to a moderately priced dinner just to celebrate their ability to go out and purchase a moderately price dinner instead of eating Ramen noodles cooked on a Bunsen burner. Since it was a formal celebration, Abby broke out her nicest Ann Taylor sweater and Holtzmann sported her "Screw U" pendant and favorite t-shirt (it was heather grey and jumbled white letters spelled out "Highly Unstable") under her nicest vest._

 _Then that same Cat Stevens song came on the restaurant's jukebox. Holtzmann pulled a little remote from her vest pocket, pointed it (hiding it under the table) at the music machine. The remote burped out a small EM pulse that blacked out every building within a five block radius for the next fifteen minutes, effectively ending their evening._

" _You don't have to talk about it," Abby reiterated as they walked back to the lab, dodging looters and muggers in the darkened streets. "Just-again-the jukebox has an 'off' button, too…"_

" _Sorry."_

" _It's all I'm going to say."_

 _It ended up being another night of Ramen noodles after all. While they ate, Holtzmann pulled out Abby's book, which she was reading a third time trying to get a better handle on her new friend. She pointed to the picture of the co-author, Erin Gilbert. "So, you never told me about pixie-legs here. What happened to her? Why isn't she working with you?" Holtzmann had been wondering since her first day working with Abby. She'd already figured out there was never going to be a good time to ask, so she just went for it now._

 _Abby scowled. "She's no one."_

 _Holtzmann could see she'd hit a nerve. "Really?"_

" _No…" Abby dropped her fork, wiping her hands furiously with a rag as if that would wipe the bad memory away. "Erin was my best friend in the world. Like, the best friend you call at three in the morning because you're stranded three hundred miles away and you know she'll come get you. We wrote that book together. The day we were supposed to present it to the science community-on live television-she didn't show up."_

 _Holtzmann's eyes widened._

" _It was the most humiliating day of my life. And I haven't heard from her since," Abby finished. "End of story."_

 _Jillian pondered all this for a minute or two. Then, she pulled out her cell phone and thumbed the browser icon. "Erin Gilbert? Let's Google her. I bet we can find her address."_

" _No, I don't want to talk to her-" Abby tried to snatch the phone out of Holtzmann's hand, but Jillian swiveled on her stool, swinging the phone out of her reach._

" _Who said anything about talking to her? I'm thinking we find an open window in her house and a garden hose and make her a nice indoor swimming pool…or is that too much? 'Cause I could just hold her down while you shave her head…"_

" _Holtz!"_

 _Jillian winked at her. She was kidding. Abby settled back onto her own stool, relaxing a bit. It was going to take her awhile to learn to read this strange woman._

" _Okay, okay…no hoses or shaving." Holtz tossed the phone aside. "Tell you what: If pixie legs ever walks into the lab, you say the word, and I'll remove her eyebrows with my blow torch."_

" _That's touching in a demented sort of way. A felony. But touching." God, Abby hoped Holtz was still joking. "So, now you know the most humiliating day of my life. What about you? Ever have one of those days?"_

" _You mean other than the Black Hole of Switzerland?"_

 _Abby nodded. "That's a good example…"_

 _Holtzmann picked at the bowl of noodles. "You want to know why I was in therapy?"_

" _You don't have to tell me-" Abby withdrew the question._

 _Jillian squeezed her eyes shut and made a noise akin to a fork stuck in a garbage disposal. She was obviously uncomfortable._

" _Forget it, I'm sorry. Too much reality, I completely understand-" Abby tried._

" _I was part of the team hired to upgrade the Hadron collider. My team leader was a douchebag named Arthur Klein. He owed Dr. Gorin a favor, that's how I got the job." Holtzmann opened her eyes, but she didn't look up at Abby. "It went pretty good mostly…but Artie was real competitive. Anything I could do, he could do better kind of thing. Drove me freaking crazy. After six weeks, I thought he was over it. We were…getting along._

" _The morning of the accident, when the power spiked, we both went into the access tunnels to shut down the overload. I went north, he went south. My tunnel stayed intact. His collapsed. I survived because of dumb luck. He was-he's been in a coma since then. The doctors say it's irreversible. Too much brain damage. And the thing is…I did the upgrade on the Super Proton Synchrotron and a bunch of back-up systems. Artie was the project leader, but I built the equipment. There was a catastrophic failure, for some reason the back-up systems didn't kick in, and that caused the surge that almost generated the black hole. The shrink called it survivor's guilt. After that, I couldn't pay any labs to let me work for them."_

" _It was an accident," Abby said._

 _Holtzmann shoved her mostly-untouched dinner aside, not hungry anymore. "Yeah, well…he's not the first guy I put into a coma."_

 _There was a sentence Abby didn't hear every day. She couldn't help asking: "How many were there exactly?"_

" _He'd be number four," Holtzmann admitted._

" _That's a little more than average."_

 _It took some encouragement, but gradually, over the remainder of the evening, Jillian proceeded to tell her new friend things she hadn't told anyone. Ever. She told Abby about being adopted by the Holtzmanns as a baby and their deaths in a car crash when she was five. Mr. Holtzmann had given her piggy back rides and called her his princess. Mrs. Holtzmann read to her every night before bed. Jillian had adored them._

 _Holtzmann had gone into the foster system for a long while after that. Her first foster family sent her back to the children's home when she accidentally set her bedroom on fire building a hoverboard like on '_ Back to the Future' _. Jillian had been eight._

 _Being a little girl with a near genius I.Q. wasn't making it easy to fit into a family or make friends. She was years ahead of the other kids in school, so they found her too weird to befriend. Her foster parents hadn't known what to make of Jillian even before the hoverboard accident._

 _Her second foster family was far worse: Jillian had been twelve. She had a foster brother named Derek Englebright who'd tried to molest her. She'd burned his left testicle with a hot light bulb and run away from the house. He'd fallen and hit his head on her bedpost, putting him in a coma for three days. Coma guy number one._

 _Abby had could actually taste bile in her mouth just thinking about it._

 _Holtzmann had given up on the foster system, flatly refusing to cooperate any time a social worker tried to place her with another family. She tried to hack the DSS computers to see if she could find her biological parents. When the social workers insisted that she had to go stay with another family, Holtzmann had escaped from the children's home._

 _She was age twelve and had been about to enter high school two years ahead of her peers before she started living on the streets with a group of homeless people._

 _A homeless veteran named Gary taught her self-defense after hearing about Derek. He'd even presented her with a Swiss Army knife he'd fished from a dumpster and cleaned up. A retired homeless teacher named Marion gave her advice on how to get through the high school system quickly and how to get financial help for a college scholarship after figuring out how smart the girl was. When they learned that Holtzmann had a natural talent for engineering, they had helped her dig pipes, wires, and other goodies out of the dumpsters to help build whatever robots or gadgets came to young Jillian's mind._

 _Then, they'd completely betrayed her by turning Holtzmann over to the police. Marion had insisted that it was the best thing for the girl to go back to the safety of the foster system, but Jillian remained uncooperative, demanding to stay in the children's home and concentrate on her schoolwork._

 _She'd found out later that year Gary the kind-hearted veteran had caught pneumonia during the harsh winter, briefly lapsed into a coma, then passed away. Coma guy number two._

 _Abby had tried to keep her expression calm and neutral, not wanting to interrupt the story with comments or questions._

 _School went about as well as it could for an underage student with a genius IQ and few social skills. For her senior thesis, Jillian had partnered with a gorgeous seventeen-year-old boy named Chuck. He had been her first real crush. She'd wanted to build a prototype of a spacecraft that could be powered to leave the solar system by using a series of controlled nuclear detonations to exit the solar system (Jillian had seen a science documentary that hypothesized such a ship could work). Chuck had just wanted to graduate._

 _Not able to use actual nuclear material (to her dismay), Holtzmann had come up with her own combustible fuel pods in order to simulate the effect she had in mind by propelling her rocket past the current eight point five mile record. It had almost worked, until the rocket exploded a couple thousand feet up._

 _Chuck had been so thrilled by the test detonation that he'd actually kissed Jillian. She didn't get a chance to figure out that he'd been playing her along, planning to return to his Drama Major girlfriend, Charlene, after completing the thesis because the fuel had detonated prematurely when they were demonstrating it for their teacher. Falling back to earth, the nose cone had knocked him into a five hour coma. Coma guy number three._

 _After graduation, he'd ditched Jillian and gone back to Charlene. Holtzmann's fuel pods had earned her a scholarship and a guaranteed internship at Hudson Aerospace._

 _Abby had listened to every single story until nearly dawn, when Holtzmann finally lapsed into silence._

" _I'll tell you what, Jillian: If any of them ever walks into the lab, you give the word and I'll remove their eyebrows with my blow torch," Abby promised._

"We can probably check Gary off our list. I don't think he'd go through all that trouble helping Holtz and then come back from the grave and attack her," Patty suggested.

"We should check on those two men-Derek Englebright and Arthur Klein, see if either of them recently passed away. One of them could be our ghost," Erin jotted down the names.

"If pervert Derek ain't a ghost yet, I might just help him get there," Patty growled.

"Family of Jillian Holtzmann?"

A nurse stood in the cafeteria doorway, reading the name off a clipboard. The Ghostbusters scrambled to their feet. "Yes," Erin answered, "that's us."

"Follow me, please."

The nurse led them to a small private room. The mayor had added it to the list of demands when he'd called Menken, and the doctor had agreed mainly out of a desire to keep the Ghostbusters as isolated from the other patients as possible for safety reasons. Rorke and Hawkins took up positions outside.

The trio hesitated at the door, taking a second to collect themselves before stepping quietly into the room.

They still weren't prepared.

Holtzmann was unconscious, pale, and completely fragile-looking. With the baggy clothing she favored and her ever-present goggles, it struck them how much smaller and more vulnerable their petite comrade looked, especially lying in the hospital bed. Bandages covered the gash and most (but not all) of the massive bruise on her head. Through the thin hospital gown, they could see the outline of more bandages and tape around her ribcage.

What was most unsettling was that Holtzmann was quiet and motionless. They were used to her moving, dancing, tinkering…even when she fell asleep at her workbench, she would still twitch and snore or mumble in her sleep as if she couldn't quite get her brain to shut down long enough to rest.

In the hospital bed, attached to the various wires and tubes that fed life into her veins, Holtzmann didn't even look like Holtzmann.

Abby found a chair and took up a spot at the head of Holtz's bed, fully intending to be there until her friend woke up, however long that might take. She threaded her fingers through Holtz's, hoping on some level she would know that they were all there with her. Patty found a second chair and took up a spot on the opposite side of the bed, propping her feet on the end of the mattress. When she saw Erin arch an eyebrow, Patty shrugged, figuring Holtz would have done exactly the same thing in Patty's place.

Erin leaned against the small closet door just behind Abby's chair, wishing she could do more than watch Dr. Menken work at keeping Holtz alive, wanting to do something to comfort Abby and Patty, who were both looking shattered by all that had happened that night.

Menken acknowledged the trio's arrival with a half-nod. Without preamble, he gave them the rundown: Jillian was breathing on her own, and for the moment it looked like she'd escaped the blow to the head with only a concussion. They'd be monitoring her for hematoma or other complications, of course.

Holtzmann had two cracked ribs from the CPR. They had taped her ribs. Under the circumstances, this injury was the least of Menken's concerns.

It was the near-drowning, and the subsequent CPR and continued comatose state that had the doctor worried. He gave them a laundry-list of possible complications from the trauma: Brain damage, pulmonary injury, infection. Obviously, the sooner Holtzmann regained consciousness, the better her chances. He refused to give an estimation of her odds.

"That man could use a visit from the Bedside Manner Fairy," Patty remarked after Menken left them. He was seriously underestimating their girl. Holtz was a survivor. If Menken tried to write her off, he'd have Tolan to deal with.

As soon as he was gone, Erin retrieved the PKE meter she had asked Rorke to smuggle into the building and scanned the room. "The PKE's not showing anything here…but I'm not sure I trust that, since it barely registered anything at Holtz's apartment. Abby, what were those names again? Arthur Klein…?"

Abby glared. "…and Derek Englebright. Erin, I don't want to do that here."

"It's okay, Abs, I'll take care of it." Pacing, Erin began punching names into her browser.

Abby's arm shot out and snatched the phone out of Erin's hand. "I mean it-not here. Jillian might be able to hear us, and if she can, I don't want to sit here talking about who might have attacked her in front of her."

That hadn't occurred to Erin. Abby was right, naturally. "That's…a good point. I think I'll…the reception's better in the cafeteria. I'll be back."

Erin ducked from the room, ears red, before she could stick her foot in her mouth again.

Patty figured she's better go after her. She pushed herself out of her chair. "You know she's worried, too, Abby. It's just how Erin deals-she works the problem."

Abby supposed that was true. "You going to talk to her?"

"Yeah, I'm on it."

Erin sat alone in the empty cafeteria, staring at the gruesome teddy bear camera for almost an hour as she mustered her will to remove the chip and witness whatever had been recorded.

Patty quietly slipped into the chair beside hers. "Hey, you okay?"

"No, I don't think I'd say I'm okay." Erin fingered the micro SD chip nervously. "I'm sorry if it seems like I'm being…insensitive. I just…don't do well with these situations. Equations and science and experiments and problems, I can control those things. I can't do anything for Jillian. I can sit there and be helpless or I can figure out what happened and stop it from happening again. That's what I can do, that's what I can control. It probably sounds stupid."

"No, no. You sure that's the only thing bugging you? You're a little more freaked out than usual…and that includes the time you were running through the city screaming about the Apocalypse."

Reluctantly, Erin reached into her coat pocket and pulled out Holtzmann's fried cell phone.

"Okay, you're carrying that around? You're officially scaring me now," Patty told her.

"Look at the number-that's my number. Holtzmann tried to call me while that thing was attacking her," Erin said.

Patty laid a hand on Erin's shoulder, trying to calm her down. "You're her friend-"

"Exactly! She was calling me, she needed my help, and I wasn't there!" It sounded irrational to Erin as she said it. How could she explain it to Patty when she didn't entirely understand it herself? She put her head in her hands, taking a few breaths until she felt more composed. "Holtz isn't close with me like she is with you and Abby. I don't know, maybe she still doesn't completely trust me. I understand why she called the firehouse, I would have done the same. I guess I don't understand why she was calling me after that and not Abby."

"You're her friend," Patty repeated.

Erin couldn't shake the feeling it was something else, and until Holtz woke up, Erin wasn't going to get an answer. She took the micro SD chip and plugged it into her cell phone.

"Sure you're ready for this?" Patty asked.

"No." Erin hit 'play' anyway.

It was worse than Erin could have imagined.

The video started quietly, showing the empty apartment like by the blinking lights of Holtzmann's various mechanical gadgets, gizmos, and the experiments she could leave running when she wasn't home. About ten minutes before Holtzmann came home, all the lights in the apartment winked out. Erin figured that was about the time the neighbor kid, Tamara, started playing with the circuit box outside.

When she came home, flipped the light switch and nothing happened, Holtzmann figured out what happened rapidly. Her experiments were all screwed up. She unleashed a torrent of swear words about that. After checking the circuit breakers inside the apartment, she determined it wasn't an overload. She vanished into the hallway, yelling at the neighbor kids off camera, who could be heard laughing. Seconds later, the lights came back on and Holtzmann was back. She turned on the satellite radio and started resetting all her equipment, checking the extent of damage due to the power loss, still grumbling oaths.

Another ten minutes in, there was a knock at her door. Brian, the nice neighbor guy, had brought Tamara over to make his daughter apologize for shutting off Holtz's power…again…hoping nothing got ruined.

Holtzmann looked like she was about ready to give him an earful…until Brian was saved by the satellite radio, which suddenly started changing its own channels. Holtzmann stared at it, instantly suspicious. Random fluctuations in radio signals were classic warning signs of paranormal activity. None of them had seen a ghost affect a satellite radio yet, but that didn't mean one couldn't do so. For that matter, all a ghost had to do was play with a remote.

Then a familiar song started blasting from the speaker. It was barely audible; Erin had to crank the volume on her phone to the maximum. "Is that…Cat Stevens?"

"Abby said something about that dude," Patty recalled.

It seemed to effectively freak Holtzmann out because she smashed the power button. That did nothing, so she unplugged the radio. That also did nothing…the radio kept playing seemingly of its own volition. At that point, Brian (still standing in Holtz's doorway) started looking nervous.

"Do you see any ghost?" Erin asked. "Any flashes of light?"

Patty shook her head. "Nothing."

That was when all hell broke loose: Books started flying from the shelves, barely missing Holtzmann and her visitors. Holtz grabbed Tamara and pushed the girl and her father towards the door, ordering them out.

Erin was watching the PKE meter, which was clearly visible on Holtzmann's counter. It barely blipped while all of this was happening. She saw Holtzmann glance at the device, so Jillian must have noticed the same thing.

"How come the PKE didn't warn her?" Patty spotted it, too.

"There's stuff flying everywhere, obviously some kind of psychokinetic energy. That thing should be lit up like a Christmas tree," Erin said. "And look-just like I said, there should be ectoplasmic residue, but there's nothing. No slime…and whatever it is doesn't visually manifest. I don't understand it. This is more indicative of a poltergeist."

Next, the various tool boxes overturned, spilling wrenches, screwdrivers, and other, heavier projectiles which flew rapid-fire at the humans. Her tiny dining table (covered with pieces of machinery and gadgets) and her living room sofa levitated and pitched themselves across the room, colliding mid-air. Holtzmann by then had shoved Brian and Tamara into the hall. Before she could follow, the invisible entity pulled off her feet and dragged her toward the kitchen. The front door slammed shut, trapping her in the apartment.

Holtzmann strained to catch hold of one of the stereo cabinet as she was dragged across the room. Fighting the pull of the entity, she pried open the small door and drew out the proton pistol. She couldn't see a ghost to shoot at, so she decided to fire blindly into the direction she was being dragged. Erin and Patty would have done the same.

That seemed to distract the ghost for a minute, and Holtzmann was able to scramble to her feet and run for the Fichus, where she has stashed some proton grenades. She pulled out her cell phone; Patty figured she was calling the firehouse. Holtz confirmed this: " _Come on, pick up. Anyone, anyone, anyone…"_ She paused for a moment before reconsidering: " _Anyone but Kevin, anyone but Kev…Kevin! It's Holtzmann! No, no…Kevin,_ I'm _Holtzmann! No, don't hang up, Kevin! Damn it_!"

Meanwhile, the kitchen drawers opened and her silverware started flying at her. Holtzmann dove behind the overturned couch and lobbed one of the grenades into the kitchen, still basically firing blind. She tried dialing again, but the cell phone was ripped from her hand and smashed into the wall. Erin guessed that was when Holtz had tried to call her.

She crawled toward the table with the landline just as that phone rang. She snatched up the handset, recognizing the number. " _Patty! Help-_!" Holtzmann yelled, tossing the second grenade. This one blasted the faucet right off the kitchen sink. Water erupted from the broken sink.

Then the phone cord tore itself from the wall. Holtzmann closed her eyes, throwing her head back against the couch with the expression of someone who was certain they are about to die. Patty had seen that expression on Holtz's face one time before-when Rowan had possessed Abby and Jillian was dangling out the firehouse window about to plummet to the pavement.

"Artie?" Holtzmann called to the empty air. "Artie…I'm sorry about what happened."

"Artie," Erin nodded. "That's the guy from the Hadron Collider."

"The one in the irreversible coma. He must have finally passed away," Patty commented.

"Artie?" Jillian tried again.

On the tiny screen, there was a moment of complete stillness except for the water pouring from the kitchen faucet.

Then chaos. Anything not already overturned or knocked off the shelf went flying. Holtzmann moved for the door, but again the invisible entity- _Arthur Klein_ -caught her again. This time, she was pitched across the apartment and hit the bathroom door with a bone-jarring thud. Stunned, Holtzmann stumbled behind the rather useless shelter of the broken door, moving out of sight of the camera. There was a flash and the sound of another explosion (probably another shot from her proton pistol), the crash of breakage, the noise of more running water, and then a flying book smashed into Mr. Snickers and that was the end of the recording.

Erin got up from the table, moved to the trash can in the corner and promptly threw up. Patty didn't blame her a bit. She was afraid she was going to do the same thing very soon.

"Our ghost is Arthur Klein," Patty distracted her.

Erin leaned her head against the wall, trying her best not to be sick again. "That bastard."

"Holtzmann hit that thing with the proton pistol and the grenades and it kept coming like she was tossing spitballs at it," Patty said. "What kind of ghost can do that? What the hell are we supposed to do if it shows up here? Tell it a story? Distract it with some karaoke?"

Erin sighed. "I don't know, Patty. I've never seen a ghost like this."

He had no real use for time, but still idly noted it was nearly dawn. He had no ability to perceive heat or cold of the air conditioners nor could he catch the stink of ammonia that permeated the air. Vending machines peddled food, but taste was a pleasure long since lost to him. All these sensations were no longer relevant to him.

He had no real use for the humans moving about the hallways or those tucked into the tiny rooms. He moved past those crowded into the waiting area of the emergency entrance—the walking wounded awaiting treatment, the anxious families and friends waiting for word on their loved ones, useless creatures all. Not the one that he needed. They could not see him. They could not help him.

The smallest voice in the darkest part of his soul cried for their blood.

He crushed that voice to silence, knowing it would be back. It always came back, growing stronger with each irrelevant day that passed.

He moves and they are all oblivious to his spectral presence.

 _She was here._ He could sense her presence like a beacon, guiding him through the labyrinth hallways to one of the patients' rooms.

Two men in black suits stood outside the door. He could sense the weapons tucked beneath their jackets. _What did they expect to do with those_? Did they not realize what a simple matter it would be for him to pluck the guns from their hands and dispatch them with their own weapons?He could have done so with merely a thought. He'd had three years to discover all he could still accomplish with the energy of a single thought.

Still, he had no real desire for their deaths. He would spare them…as long as they stayed out of his way. He stepped into the private room with these fools unaware of his arrival.

She wasn't quite alone. He'd expected as much. A dark-haired woman in drab flannel pajamas sat at her bedside, keeping dutiful watch. He recognized this woman from the television. His eternity in limbo afforded plenty of opportunities for humans to inflict their television watching on him, the wretched devices hung in nearly every room of the hospital he had frequented. This woman called herself a "Ghostbuster".

This one was certain to interfere; she had done so once already that evening, her and her comrades. Again, his soul railed at him to kill her now. He did not quite silence the urge this time, for he might have to dispatch this one…if she became a hindrance to his plans.

Ignoring this woman for the moment, Arthur Klein circled past her to the other side of the bed.

There she was. He stared at the motionless figure in the bed.

Arthur felt a deep ache of regret for the bandages that wrapped around her head and the bruise that was still visible beneath the stark white fabric. The damned voice had got the better of him back in the apartment. He hadn't meant to frighten her, only to make her aware of his presence. He'd lost his tenuous control over the voices…and look what had happened. He should have known she'd come out swinging. That had always been her style. He would have to do better next time.

Hesitantly, his fingers skimmed a hair's breadth above the dressings, passing through a strand of blonde hair on her forehead. "Hello, Jillian."

Arthur had been rehearsing what to say. Now that the moment had come, he forgot his speeches altogether. Nothing to do but be honest, he supposed. "I've been looking for you for so long…and as soon as I find you, well, I made rather a mess of things, didn't I? It wasn't my intention. I promise. I'll try…harder next time…I need…"

The voices were bubbling to his consciousness again. Arthur squeezed his eyes closed, willing them away. They found for control. It would have been so easy to give in to the rage…so easy….

Instantly, he withdrew his shaking hand and stumbled away from the bed, afraid to lash out again, to do more damage than he'd already done. He clenched his fists, turning away, preparing to flee if that were the only way to quiet the madness before it seized him again.

Arthur vented the rage in a guttural, mournful scream until it finally abated.

Not a soul in the building could hear the sound. The guards were motionless outside the door; the dark-haired woman by the bed did not so much as blink.

When he trusted to face her again, he begged: "I need your help, Jillian."


	3. Chapter 3

_A.N.: Same warnings abound for language, sci-fi violence, and intense situations. And I still don't own the characters (see chapter 1 for full disclaimers and credits)._

 **3**

" _ **Throwdown**_ **"**

 _Arthur Klein was used to working for everything he had. He had studied long hours at school. He had worked long hours to pay his way through college. After graduating, he had worked still longer hours to climb his way from internships to one of the premiere particle physicists at Globaldyne. When the opportunity to head up a team assigned to repair and upgrade the CERN Hadron Collider came along, Klein had called in every favor he'd earned along the way to secure the spot._

 _He considered himself to be driven, dedicated, focused, and determined, and he expected nothing less than the same seriousness from every one on his team._

 _Which is why his first impression of the scrap of a girl in the baggy, paint-stained overalls, leather jacket, pointless rubber boots, and socks that look as if she stole them straight off the feet of Munchkin from the Lollipop Guild could be summed up in a single word:_

" _No."_

 _Klein's team had been loading the plane for the trip to Switzerland that morning when his cell phone buzzed. Dr. Gorin was calling to inform him that she was adding another particle physicist/engineer to his team. As Arthur owed her several favors, he naturally could not refuse._

 _The strange waif in the overalls must have been Dr. Gorin's protégé, for she'd been gifted with a duplicate of the "Screw U" pendant that Rebecca bestowed on only her most favored students. However, if Gorin thought Arthur was going to suffer a buffoon for a team member, she would be having an unpleasant call from Klein coming her way that evening._

 _At Klein's monosyllabic dismissal, Holtzmann had halted in her tracks. She pulled out her ear buds, just in case she'd heard him wrong with the music blaring because there was no way this joker had said what she thought he just said. "Excuse me?"_

 _Arthur Klein's disapproval was written on his face. "You're Holtzmann? You're the physicist Dr. Gorin intends for me to take to Switzerland?"_

 _Holtzmann was instantly defensive. "I'm the one Dr. Gorin intends to help fix your mistakes."_

 _It was definitely the wrong answer. 'Mistakemistakemistakemistake,' Jillian scolded herself. Dr Gorin had warned her that Klein functioned primarily on ego. Unfortunately, ass-kissing wasn't one of Holtzmann's strongest suits._

 _Sure enough, Klein turned on his heels and headed for the plane, fulling intending to leave the insolent girl standing on the tarmac._

 _She refused to chase him. There was more than one way to manipulate an egomaniac, after all. "You know what, it's fine!" Holtzmann dropped her duffel bag on the pavement and used it for a chair. She called to the back of his head as he walked away: "Dr. Gorin showed me the plans your team put together for the upgrades. Frankly, they're embarrassing. I'd rather not have my name attached to them. See, that way, after the Swiss laugh you back to the States, I can fly over there myself and do the job the right way."_

 _Klein paused, but he didn't look back at her. He was listening. That was something._

" _What?" she pressed him. "You really don't see it?"_

 _Now, Arthur turned and glared. Nevertheless, he pulled the computer pad from his briefcase, called up the schematics for the upgrades, and offered the computer to Holtzmann. "Show me our 'mistake'. You have five minutes to impress me. You could start by losing the Munchkin socks."_

" _I can do it in two minutes." She took the pad from his hand and swept her hand across the screen, scrolling through the pages of schematics. For added fun, she repeated the motion several more times, scrolling up and down the file. Finally, she covered her eyes with one hand and, with the other, pointed to an apparently random spot on the file. "This. Right. Here."_

 _Arthur frowned at her. She was playing games, just as he'd anticipated. "Do you even know what page you're pointing to?"_

 _Holtzmann opened her eyes. "Doesn't really matter. There's something wrong on every page." She jerked her chin in the direction of the rest of Klein's team, who stood near the plane watching the exchange with smirks she would have loved to smack from their faces. She recognized most of them. There were some good scientists among them…and a couple of real morons Holtzmann had the misfortune to work with at Globaldyne. She fixed a stare on them. "Or didn't TweedleDum and TweedleDumber overthere let you check their homework, dad?"_

 _Klein started to turn away again. The time, Holtzmann did follow. She circled around to block his path and shoved the pad under his nose. "There. Right there. Do you really not see the mistake? The Box of Death you labeled a_ _Super Proton Synchrotron_ _? You follow these schematics and this Box of Death is going to cause and explosion that brings the whole facility right down on you. Or what about the linear particular accelerators? The proton synchrotron booster? I'm assuming you want the particles energized to the proper levels? Or is the plan to supercharge the collider and skip from finding the God particle to generating a black hole. If that's what you're going for, I withdraw my protest but have about six more follow up questions."_

 _Klein examined the schematics. He must have agreed, judging by the twitch in his jaw. Holtzmann managed hide her grin._

 _She pulled out a spiral binder-a notebook, for God's sake, Arthur rolled his eyes-and flipped through pages of what looked to him like the scribblings of a madwoman. She found the page she wanted and held it out, again practically under his nose. Klein might have laughed outright, but morbid curiosity got the better of him, compelled him to take just a peek (if only to gage the true depths of her madness)._

 _He frowned. "You want to use what for shielding? And these settings…this is all quite…insane."_

" _I like to think so. You can take your chances with TweedleDum and TweedleDumber, or you can let me on the plane, and I'll show you the other three mistakes in their schematics."_

" _Holtzmann, is it?" Arthur extended a hand, offering to help with the cumbersome duffel bag. "I still hate your socks."_

" _I have five more pairs and a matching shirt."_

 _Something had happened_. Holtzmann knew that much.

Her mind felt fuzzy, detached from her body, like the first groggy minutes waking from a dream. Bits and pieces of memory floated back to her consciousness, but she had to struggle back to lucidity to try to make sense of them. _Why was it so difficult to think_?

Holtzmann remembered something attacking her in her apartment. _Something…she couldn't see what it was…it was a ghost. A ghost was attacking her and the proton pistols weren't having any effect, the proton grenade weren't working…_

 _That bratty neighbor girl had shut off Holtzmann's power (again) and messed up her experiments. The girl was there when the ghost attacked. She remembered shoving the girl out the door…the girl and her father both. Holtzmann had to get them away from the ghost..._

 _Then something grabbed Holtzmann's legs and jerked her from her feet. She had tried to call the firehouse for help. Had they heard her? Had she even thought to tell them where she was? Holtzmann couldn't remember. The ghost kept coming. Nothing Jillian tried slowed it down._

 _She got up, but it knocked her off her feet again and sent her crashing into her bathroom door. She remembered water everywhere-the damn ghost must have ripped the pipes right out of her wall. Oh well, she'd lost her damage deposit a long time ago anyway._

 _A ghost…_

 _Not some random ghost. She remembered the music._

 _Artie. It was Artie._

 _Then something, solid and hard, connected with her skull, and Holtzmann saw only white light. Warm, inviting, safe light. It was tempting just to stay there in the light._

 _Except voices started calling her, voices calling her name from very far away…_

 _Abby's voice. Abby was calling her name._

 _Abby, no...there was something important she had to tell Abby. Jillian had to warn her. Warn her about what? What was it…?_

 _She followed the voices out of the warmth of the light…into_ _pain. She felt her ribs breaking as immense pressure crushed down on them. It was difficult to draw a breath past the pain, but her lungs burned with need for air. Her head throbbed, aching so fiercely it brought with it nausea. The voices still beckoned, closer and louder now. Patty's voice. Erin's voice. Abby's voice. They were here. They'd found her…_

 _For a moment, her panic abated. She wasn't alone now. Her family had come to help-_

 _Then the fear returned in a rush_. _No, no, no…they couldn't be here. They were in danger. Why were they in danger_?

 _Artie_. _He was there, too. He had tried to kill her. Artie would kill them, too. No, no, no…the proton packs wouldn't work…Holtzmann had to warn them._

 _She fought the blackness that held her in its painful grip, fought the pain, fought to open her eyes…_

Holtzmann snapped back to consciousness with a strangled cry, completely disoriented.

 _Where the hell was she?_

 _More importantly, where was Artie? He was near. She could sense it._

She blinked, trying to focus her eyes so she get her bearings. Glancing around her, she saw an unfamiliar window, sterile white walls, and bland tiles. There were monitors beeping. Crappy artwork adorned the walls. The place stank of ammonia.

 _Hospital,_ her mind supplied immediately. _She was in a hospital. How did she get to the hospital?_

Her gaze finally fell upon a familiar figure that was seated nearby, hunched over the only bed in the tiny room. _Abby._ Holtzmann breathed a sigh of relief…

…until she spied the second figure in the room. Holtzmann's gaze narrowed. Fury welled from deep within her. Her hands balled into fists.

 _Artie_.

The ghost was stalking behind Abby, who was unaware of his presence. Her attention was completely focused on the person in the hospital bed.

Instinctively, Holtzmann shouted: " _Artie_ , _stop_!"

She surprised him. The specter whirled to face the new arrival, a snarl of warning escaping its lips before Artie saw just who was standing behind him.

"Jillian? Jillian, I'm…I'm so-"

Artie struggled to form the words around a mouth already twisting and distorting from his human visage as his inner turmoil began to affect his spectral form. His eyes-brown and beseeching-met hers for an instant before they slowly darkened to blood red.

 _He's sorry? Was he freaking kidding her?_ Holtzmann frowned. _He'd tried to kill her. He could talk to her about 'sorry' after she ripped off his arm and beat him with it…_

Something flashed behind Artie's red eyes. Holtzmann had seen that expression a dozen times before when she'd slugged it out with ghosts: It was the look of a specter that was about to lose the internal battle to contain its rage, about to lash out at the living-whether in a slime-soaked mess or with its inhuman limbs ripping at human chests and throats, tossing people through windows, or ripping their heads from their shoulders.

Artie's attention returned to Abby. The voices whispered to him, summoning the deep-seeded rage once more: _Jillian was here finally. He needed Jillian's help. This dark-haired human would get in his way._ Artie reached for the tray table by the bed.

Holtzmann read his intention: Abby had her back to him; Artie would bring the tray crashing down on her head or her neck, again and again until Abby was unconscious or worse.

" _Artie, no_!" The scream tore from Holtzmann as she lunged, pushing him away from Abby.

Rather, she meant to push him. Instead, Holtzmann flung Artie across the room easily as tossing a rag doll…and she had done it simply by waving one arm in his direction. _What the hell_?

Artie sailed through the wall into the adjoining hallway, but returned in the blink of an eye. He was giving in to the voices in his head. His appearance was growing less human and more monstrous with each passing second. His gaze swept over Holtzmann, a sneer playing at the corners of his mouth, as he thundered toward the unsuspecting woman beside the hospital bed.

Holtzmann stepped between Artie and his target. "You even blink at her and I'll wring your scrawny neck."

She had a clear memory of firing the proton pistol at Artie back in the apartment, of the beam passing harmlessly through the specter's torso. Without her weapons, Holtzmann had no idea how she was going to make good on any threat she could issue.

Which wouldn't stop her from trying.

Abby was still unaware of the danger. _What the hell was distracting her from the commotion taking place two feet behind her?_ Holtzmann wondered.

Monster Artie propelled himself towards Abby once more. Holtzmann extended her arm to the rolling tray table. It floated off the ground at her command. One wave of her hand and the table pitched itself smoothly and effortlessly right at Artie's head.

More precisely, it flew _through_ his head.

 _Telekinesis. Nice._ Holtzmann grinned. She had no idea how she was doing it, but she was sure going to enjoy trying it out.

The crash of the tray impacting the wall directly behind her finally alerted Abby to the danger. She whirled, facing a room that appeared empty. The psychokinetic energy needed to propel that tray was finally enough to trigger the PKE, which a beeped a belated warning of the obvious: Arthur Klein had returned.

Otherwise, there was nothing to signal the presence of the ghost-no change in atmospheric pressure making her ears pop, no smears (or showers) of ectoplasm, none of the hallmarks that years of research told Abby to expect in the present of the deceased. _No wonder he had caught Jillian completely by surprise._ _She probably had one, maybe two seconds' warning before Artie attacked._

She hadn't watched the recording of the fight in Holtzmann's apartment, but Erin and Patty had given Abby the essential facts: Arthur was their ghost and their weapons didn't work on him. _What the hell kind of a ghost is this creep?_

Erin and Patty had gone out to pick up decent coffee and donuts (the hospital food was inedible) and talk about strategies over breakfast, respecting Abby's request not to talk about Arthur's attack or weapons or anything else in the hospital room because Jillian needed positive energies to help her recover. Rorke and Hawkins heard the crash and charged into the room, only to be blown back into the hallway by a psychokinetic blast. They slumped to the floor, out cold.

Abby put herself as best she could between the bed and the ghost she knew lurked somewhere in the room, finger itching for the proton wand that had been stowed in Ecto-1, a weapon that wouldn't have worked even if she'd dared fire it here in the hospital. The best Abby could do was try to be a distraction and hope Erin and Patty returned before Artie chewed through her and turned his attention to the unconscious Holtzmann.

"Artie?" Abby called to the empty air. "Artie…I get why you're pissed at Jillian. But, you touch her again and I swear I'm going to fucking _end_ you. Do you hear me?"

The couch in the corner of the room levitated into the air, which Abby supposed meant that Arthur heard her loud and clear. She barely had time to utter an oath and dive to shield Holtzmann before it arched through the air and smashed into the closet door.

The tray hadn't even made Artie blink, so Holtzmann figured she needed something bigger to draw his attention away from Abby. Someone had pulled a small couch into the room at some point. Holtzmann could never have moved it under normal circumstances. With her awesome new ability, she floated it surprising ease and did her best to pitch it squarely at Artie's legs. It slid through him and slammed into the bathroom door with sufficient force to knock it from its hinges, but it sufficiently caused Artie to turn back to face Holtzmann.

Monster Artie roared a howl that kicked up a psychokinetic whirlwind in the room. Abby had stretched herself across the hospital bed, carefully protecting whoever lay there. Holtzmann didn't have time to wonder about that, not with the ghost's attention now fully returned to her. His distorted, claw-like fingers snaked toward her throat. Grotesque lips curled back to bare sharp fangs.

Holtzmann stood her ground, staring it down. Her friend, Gary the veteran, had taught her long ago that intimidation of your attacker was half the battle in self-defense…granted Gary probably hadn't run across a class four apparition with a serious grudge, but what the hell, it was worth a shot.

To her surprise, the specter faltered. Monster Artie blinked at Holtzmann in hesitation, let out a sound like a wail of frustration…and turned to flee the room.

Holtzmann was too stunned to move for a fraction of a second.

Then, fury kicked back in full-force. She tore down the hallway in pursuit. "Artie! Come back, you little rat bastard!"

The retreating Artie nearly collided with Kevin as he rounded the corner of the hallway. The receptionist caught sight of flailing talons and pointed teeth and reflexively flattened himself against the wall to allow the ghost to pass. Moments later, Holtzmann came barreling down the corridor in pursuit of the creature.

"Hey, Holtzmann!" Kevin greeted her. He gestured to the duffel bag slung over his shoulder. "Erin asked me to bring your stuff-"

"Not now, Kevin!" she shouted back, vanishing around the corner as she chased the specter.

Kevin shrugged off the dismissal, unfazed. Holtz was the professional ghost chaser and she was evidently busy. After his experience with Rowan, Kevin had no desire to get in the middle of a ghost hunt.

He'd wait until they weren't in a hallway full of people to let Holtz know that she was running around in a backless hospital gown. No point in needlessly embarrassing her.

Pleased with that decision, Kevin searched the hallway until he found the room number Erin had given him over the phone. He was a bit perplexed to see the government guys sleeping outside the door. The room itself was wrecked. Furniture was smashed. The closet door hung from one hinge. Abby was there, looking windblown. She jumped at the footsteps until she saw it was only their receptionist.

"Hey, Abby, who's that ghost that Holtz is chasing-?" Kevin asked, stepping over the sleeping Homeland Security guys so he could enter the room. "-also, did you know there are two guys napping in the hallway?"

Abby was busy checking the beside monitors, inspecting the I.V. line, making sure Artie hadn't damaged the equipment that was helping keep her friend alive. Then, she realized she had no idea how to tell if the medical equipment was functioning properly and pressed the nurse call button. The force of the psychokinetic maelstrom had nearly knocked Abby from her feet. It would have blown unconscious Jillian to the floor or right out the window if Abby hadn't stretched herself across the bed to carefully hold her in place.

 _Kevin was blathering about something._ "Sweetie, what are you talking about?" Abby asked, distracted.

Kevin walked over and looked at the bed. He frowned, scratching the side of his head in confusion. "Wait a second…why are there two Holtzmanns? She have a twin or something?"

That was the instant that Abby finally became aware of the commotion coming from outside the room. She peered into the hallway.

There was a trail of trash cans being blown into the air and pictures flying off the wall while people ducked to avoid the projectiles. Ghost Artie clearly was heading that way. "Artie," Abby growled. He wasn't getting away this time.

Kevin stared over Abby's shoulder, asking: "Artie? Is that the guy Holtz is chasing?"

His words finally sank in. Abby has a creepy feeling. "Kevin…where do you see two Holtzmanns?" she asked carefully, willing herself not to be alarmed quite yet.

"One's in the bed…the other one is over there." He pointed in the direction of the chaos. "Artie's running towards the cafeteria, and the other Holtz is following him. She's kicking his ass, too."

Abby decided it was all right to panic now. She ran after the invisible combatants, pulling Kevin along by his sweater sleeve. "Oh, this is not good…not good…"

Holtzmann chased Klein into the cafeteria. Luckily, most of the people who were eating had abandoned their meals and run for their lives when they heard the commotion and saw furniture flying everywhere. Monster Artie stops in the middle of the room. He turned back to face Holtzmann. She gave him a feral smile. "Tried to kill me, Artie?! Seriously? You son of a b-"

Holtzmann had a memory of him sending silverware flying at her back in her apartment, so she decided to return the favor. The cups of silverware topple and fly in a stream towards Artie. Monster Artie lets out a roar of psychokinetic energy that sent Holtzmann careening through the vending machine.

 _Through the machine_. It dawned on her that the ability to pass through solid objects was also not normal.

Abby and Kevin caught up to them in time to see one of the cafeteria vending machines propel itself across the room before smashing through the window.

"Okay, which one of them did that?" Abby asked Kevin.

"Holtzmann," he answered.

Next, a table flipped end over end, forcing Abby and Kevin to dodge out of its path. It smashed into an empty gurney in the receiving area.

Kevin supplied: "That was Artie."

"What the hell is going on?!" Patty and Erin followed the trail of fleeing bystanders directly to Abby and Kevin. Patty had shouted despite the fact that it was fairly evident what was happening.

"There's been a development," Abby told them.

"Yeah, I can see that much," Patty snapped.

Kevin waved hello at them and blurted out: "Holtzmann is a ghost…"

" _Out of body_! Apparently." Abby corrected him quickly, before his words gave Erin and Patty heart attacks.

"Was that supposed to be reassuring?" Erin asked.

"So, is that guy out of body or a ghost?" Kevin pointed to the invisible Artie.

Erin's mind seized on those words. "Out of body…of course! That's why Arthur isn't acting like a normal ghost…"

Patty wasn't worried about splitting hairs over technicalities right then. She gaped at the whirlwind of flying debris, silverware, and furniture. The PKE was sure active now…it was spinning so hard it nearly broke apart in Abby's hand. " _Holtzmann_?! You mean our baby girl is doing all that?"

All four of them had to duck as a bench seat arched right over their heads. "No, that one was Artie," Kevin pointed to the smashed bench seat. "You guys really can't see them?"

"You mean _you_ can?" Erin asked him.

Metal sculptures tore themselves from the cafeteria walls and flew like Frisbees, smashing the last unbroken window in the room. " _That_ was Holtzmann," Kevin said .

"It was a rhetorical question, Kevin, but, good information, thanks." Patty watched the fight, undecided whether to be terrified that Holtzmann was clearly currently a ghost or to be proud that she was currently handing this Artie joker his ass.

"You said the proton streams won't work on him. If you've got any suggestions, now's the time," Abby said.

Erin pursed her lips, thinking. "We could try the trap."

Abby shook her head. "No! We might miss Artie and catch Jillian! We don't know what that would do to her!"

Patty added, "Besides, if the proton streams don't effect Artie, who says the trap is gonna hold him?"

Monster Artie slowly realized there were more people gathering by the minute. The other women who called themselves the Ghostbusters had arrived, interfering again. The voices urged him to kill them all. They were inconsequential.

Not inconsequential, the voices rationalized. They would never help him. They would keep Jillian from helping him.

 _Jillian…_

Artie collapsed to his knees for a second, fighting back the urge to attack. _He hadn't come here to attack her again-what was he doing_?! He let out another mournful cry, his ghostly arms wrapping around his torso, hugging tight.

He raised his eyes to her. "Jillian-help me-"

She froze.

Arthur stared at her. For a split second, his ghoulish visage faded back to the human face that Holtzmann remembered.

"Jillian, I need-I can't-I-please-"

She took a step towards him.

Then he lost his tenuous control; the monster within seized him. " _No_ , _get away_!"

Artie swept his arm, knocking her again through the wall, this time the attack was meant to buy her time while Artie fled out the broken window and disappeared.

Her own rage abating, Holtzmann pushed herself to her feet, wondering what the hell to make of that.

Dr. Menken thundered through the ward, shouting at the Ghostbusters. "What is happening-what's this!?" He gaped at the wreckage.

Patty held up her hands defensively. "Hey, don't look at us. Our weapons are in the car, remember?"

"Is it over?" Abby asked.

Kevin grinned. "Oh yeah. That Artie guy flew out the window. Holtz is still there, don't worry."

Erin was _very_ worried, in fact. The implications of Holtzmann being out of body…she hoped Kevin is wrong somehow. "Kevin, tell us exactly what you're seeing."

Kevin crossed his arms. "I see Holtz. She's wearing a hospital gown with no back. There's a tattoo of Bugs Bunny on her right cheek. He's giving the finger-American style, not Australian style." He demonstrated the difference for them.

Holtzmann overheard. "What!? Abby, why didn't you tell me I've been running around with my butt hanging out…" She grabbed the gown, holding the back shut.

Nobody responded to her question. When she trudged back to her friends, she noticed they weren't even looking at her. "Guys?" she waved her hand in front of their faces, and still there was reaction, save for Kevin.

"They can't see you," he informed her.

"Eh?"

Kevin shrugged. "I think you're a ghost."


	4. Chapter 4

_A.N.: Same warnings abound for language, sci-fi violence, and intense situations. I think I might have a sexual reference in this chapter (nothing graphic, nothing shown). And I still don't own the characters (see chapter 1 for full disclaimers and credits)._

 **4**

" _ **What Happens in Switzerland"**_

Holtzmann took a moment to process what Kevin had just said. "I'm what?" Rationally, she knew that explained the telekinesis, the sudden ability to see Arthur's ghost, the ability to walk through walls and vending machines. In the fury of fighting with Artie, the rational part of her brain hadn't stopped to put the pieces together. _She was a ghost. That meant she was_ -?

Abby hissed, resisting the urge to smack the receptionist in his head. "Kevin! She's not a ghost! Stop saying that! Jillian, don't listen to him."

 _Well, that was a relief._ "Abby…what's going on?" she asked.

"No, remember, she can't hear you either. Or see you," Kevin reminded her.

"But you can?" Holtzmann asked him.

Kevin nodded, grinning.

Holtzmann started pacing the hallway. "Great. That's just...fan-freaking-tastic. Okay, Kevin, ask her what happened for me."

Kevin obliged. "Holtz wants to know what happened."

Abby directed her words in the general direction that Kevin was staring. "There was a ghost at your apartment, Jillian. You don't remember? You got hit in the head pretty hard, and you almost drowned in your bathtub-"

" _What?!_ " Holtzmann most definitely did not recall that part.

"- but the doctor says you'll be okay…you know, except that you're having an out of body experience, apparently," Abby explained. She wished she could see her friend's reaction. "Kevin, how's she taking this?"

Holtzmann considered all this…then broke into a grin. " _Awesome_! I have always wanted to have an out of body experience! We have to document all this…tell Abby to get a notebook. We've got to do some tests…"

"She's taking it _really_ well," Kevin reported. "She wants you to get a notebook so she can take a test."

"A test? Tests?!" Erin made a noise of exasperation. "She doesn't need to do experiments. She needs-" Erin paused, wondering why she was telling Kevin. "Holtz, we are not doing tests! You need to try to wake up. Dr. Menken said the longer you're in the coma …."

The mention of Menken sent Abby thundering into the cafeteria, where the doctor was directing the clean-up and making sure no one had been injured by the melee. When he saw the Ghostbuster coming, he scolded: "That's it…I was afraid of something like this. You and your friends are-"

He was cut off when Abby seized him by the collar and backed him against the wall.

"What do you think you're doing-?" he protested.

"You need to take Jillian and run every test you have on her. Whatever machines you have in this place, you put her in them. Because something is wrong and _you missed it_!" Abby demanded, her tone brooking no argument.

Abby grabbed Erin and Patty's attention. They wait for her explanation.

Menken was used to dealing with erratic, frantic family members. He assured her: "Ms. Holtzmann's vitals are steady. We are monitoring her, her condition is stable. Serious, but stable-"

Abby saw that her friends were waiting for an explanation as well. "Do you guys not see it? At the apartment, Jillian was unconscious. After she gets here, she's in a coma. A few hours later, she manifests and starts blowing silverware around and tossing the furniture like an F1 tornado. Hell, she's a stronger apparition than Artie right now! Connect the dots. She's getting worse, not better." Relenting, she let go of Menken. In a calmer tone, she told him: "You missed something."

Menken straightened his jacket. "We'll run some more tests…just to be sure this ghost of yours isn't interfering with our monitors. Then, your friend is going to be moved to a more isolated part of the hospital, where there's less chance of a bystander being hurt by your ghost."

The Ghostbusters retreated back to Holtzmann's hospital room to wait, deciding it was best to have their conversation in private. Rorke and Hawkins had put the room back together before they sheepishly resumed their places at the door.

Abby retrieved her chair and resumed her place at the head of the hospital bed, Erin sat on the opposite chair, while Kevin and Patty plopped on the sofa. Holtzmann stared at her own body lying in the hospital bed, fascinated but deeply unnerved.

Wanting something else to focus on, Holtzmann tried concentrating on not manifesting in the hospital gown. She tried visualizing herself in her overalls. "Okay, Kevin, can you still see anything?"

Kevin shook his head. "Nope, you're good. But, you have nothing to be ashamed of, you've got a lovely bum. If you made a porno, I'd definitely go see it."

Holtzmann blinked. "I'm not sure 'thanks' is the word I'm looking for, but I'm flattered."

"Kevin, please," Abby said.

"Why do you suppose ghosts are always wearing whatever clothes they died in?" Kevin wondered.

"Kevin-!" Erin tried. "-that's not appropr-"

Kevin was already down the rabbit hole. "If you can look however you want, wouldn't you want to go Armani or something? Or why bother with the clothes at all? We come into the world naked, why not go out that way?"

Abby waited for Erin to answer, however she noticed that Erin was kind of staring into space.

"You're picturing Kevin naked now aren't you?" Abby asked her.

Erin admitted, "A little." She shook it off and took a stab at answering Kevin's question, if only so they could change the subject back to the more relevant concerns. "In theory, when ghosts manifest, they project the image of themselves that they carried into limbo. A kind of psychic imprint."

"Or maybe they don't want freaky receptionist-slash-actors trying to recruit them for ghost porn," Holtzmann suggested.

"Oh, if we could corner that industry, our financial problems would be solved. Who wouldn't pay to see ghost porn?" Kevin said.

Holtzmann tapped out. "I have absolutely no response for that."

Patty was trying to concentrate on calling up information on Arthur Klein with her cell phone browser. "How did we get on the subject of naked ghosts?" She looked at Erin and Abby. "Why do you suppose Kevin can see and hear Holtz and we can't?"

Erin had already been thinking about that. "Well…Kevin's always been on a slightly different plane of reality that the rest of us, so in a way it kind of makes sense. Unless Kevin can see her because of some kind of telepathic connection, in which case the image of Holtzmann is nothing but her psychic imprint on Kevin's mind and not really manifesting."

"Girl, you are sailing on the river Denial. Psychic imprints don't rearrange the furniture," Patty disagreed.

"Ask her if a 'psychic imprint' can do this…" Holtzmann waved her hand at the fire extinguisher that hung on the wall behind Erin. It squirted her on the back of the neck, making her jump from the chair.

"Hey!"

Kevin pointed to the nightstand where Holtzmann's ghost was sitting. "She did it."

"I'm just considering all possibilities!" Erin protested. "We follow the scientific method, remember?"

The conversation paused as the orderlies arrived to take Holtzmann down for the tests that Abby had demanded. The tense silence returned.

Finally, Patty cleared her throat for everyone's attention. "Okay, so you were right, Erin. Artie Klein is not a ghost, he's still in a coma. Definitely a disembodied spirit, not a full on ghost. According to this—" She wagged the cell phone, indicating the news story on the tiny screen. "-his sister had him transferred from the long-term care facility in Switzerland to a hospital upstate, which is probably why he suddenly manifested here. There's a picture of him back before the accident…helllooo Liam Neeson!" Patty made an involuntarily growl in the back of her throat. "Damn, Holtz, I know this is wildly inappropriate but I gotta know, did you hit that while you were in Switzerland?"

Kevin saw Holtzmann's ears turn red and grinned. "Ah…yeah, she did."

"Kevin!" Holtzmann swatted at the back of his head, succeeding only in passing her hand harmlessly through his skull. All she remembered about that night was that the whole CERN team had gone out to celebrate finishing the upgrades to the collider. There'd been a lot of drinking, an insane amount of drinking, way too much drinking…and the next thing she remembered was sneaking out his bed, cursing herself " _"Mistakemistakemistakemistake…"_ all the way back to her apartment.

"So, what, he's still in love with her? Romantic attachment preventing him from crossing over? Or is he still blaming her for the accident?" Erin rattled off theories.

"We can rule out romantic attachment. He's too passionately in love with himself," Holtzmann said.

 _They were driving each other insane._

 _Arthur Klein craved quiet to concentrate while he worked. Jillian Holtzmann seemed dependent upon music and motion in order to work. He kept his work station meticulous. Her area looked like the nesting place of a junkyard rat (strictly his opinion, but if he actually complained about it, she seemed to take great delight in lugging in a fresh box of junk the following morning). Worse, the laboratory where they were assembling the new equipment for the Hadron Collider was small, crowded, and the close quarters only exacerbated the tension._

 _Worse, the impudent American girl argued with Artie's every suggestion for the upgrades._

" _We need to tweak the power flow."_

" _No, we don't."_

" _Would you listen for a minute to someone else's opinion? We have to amplify-"_

" _Black Hole of Switzerland, remember? Leave the power settings like I have them, don't touch the linear accelerators, the equipment will function fine-" Holtzmann was adamant._

 _Artie decided that he'd had his fill of the woman undermining his authority in front of his team. He snatched the wire strippers from her hand, forcing her to at least stop and look at him. "Ms. Holtzmann, I realize most of us don't share your astounding I.Q., but does it occur to you that the rest of us have far more experience and every bit the same education as you…that we might actually have something worthwhile to contribute to this project? Your insights are appreciated and considered, but the final decision about every aspect of these upgrades is mine. And please stop referring to doctors Rand and Coleman as 'TweedleDum' and 'TweedleDumber'."_

 _He handed the pad to Dr. Rand. "Take these updates to Dr. Ingersol and tell her to install the new components I asked for."_

 _For added measure, on his way back to his workroom, Arthur picked up the remote and switched the satellite radio from the 80s station Holtzmann favored to the classical music channel on his way out._

 _Holtzmann's ears were bright red when she marched back to her workstation. The rest of the team—particularly Rand and Coleman-avoided her (more so than usual) for the remainder of the day, fearing to become collateral damage for her wrath._

 _She retreated to her favorite club in Geneva, drowning her sorrows in drinks and horrible dance remixes of her beloved old 80s tunes and generally tried to get over feeling like a sidelined child. It was becoming her nightly routine since working with Klein._

 _That particular evening was different. She returned to her tiny apartment to find a demand for a video chat from Dr. Gorin. Holtzmann would have hesitated to talk to her mentor on the phone, much less video conferencing when she must look like day four of a three day bender. However, she knew better than to ignore the call._

" _What the hell is this, Jillian?" Gorin keyed up an email Klein had sent her that evening-details of his changes to the_ _Super Proton Synchrotron and the other sections that Holtzmann was overseeing_. _"Is this a joke? These are safe, uninspired…in other words, these are Klein's schematics. These are the rantings of a simpleton. What happened to_ your _plans?"_

" _Dr. Klein disagrees-"_

" _Jillian, I didn't send you over there to make friends with the team, and I damn well didn't send you to play nice with Arthur Klein. I sent you to be a giant, painful hemorrhoid in his pompous ass, to make sure this gets done right. Stop trying to impress him, and definitely stop trying to be him. Go back there and do the job your way. Make some magic." Gorin arched an eyebrow in dismissal and hung up without another word._

 _When he stepped into the lab the following morning Artie was greeted by ZZ Top's "Gimme All Your Lovin'" blaring from Holtzmann's beloved 80s channel on the satellite radio._

 _The indignities didn't stop there: A Lucite cube had been left at his workstation. Encased within was the programming chip he'd sent to Ingersol the previous day. Holtzmann had tagged the cube with a post-it note that simply read: "No."_

 _The remote control for the satellite radio was safely tucked into an identical cube right beside the one containing the chip._

 _He didn't need to glance through the window to the adjoining workstation to know she'd be dancing._

 _Arthur was frustrated. They were never going to make progress on the LHC so long as he and Holtzmann kept having these pointless rows. The woman had to fall in line or Arthur would have to risk Dr. Gorin's wrath and send her back to the States._

 _The rub was that Arthur couldn't afford to send Holtzmann back to the States. She was truly the most infuriating chore of a woman he'd ever worked with, but without question she was also the most brilliant of any scientist he'd encountered. These upgrades would progress so much faster with her help than without her._

 _He didn't care to say such things in front of the team, so that evening, after the group went their separate ways for the weekend, Arthur had trailed Holtzmann to her favorite club. She was difficult to spot among the throng of people, but he finally spied her in the crowd. She was dancing, no surprise there. He wondered if she were capable of sitting still for more than a few minutes at a time._

 _Realizing he was staring like some sort of creepy stalker, Klein slowly made his way down the spiral staircase into the heart of the club. By the time he'd navigated his way through the crowd, Holtzmann had abandoned the dance floor in favor of a seat at the bar. He hurried to grab the seat next to her before one of the other blokes who'd been eyeing the blonde beat him to her._

" _Buy you a drink, Miss?" Arthur tried his best Yankee accent just to mess with her a bit._

" _Really not looking for-" Jillian began, until she turned to see who was offering. "Aw, shit, it's you."_

 _Arthur chuckled. "That's charming." He waved over one of the bartenders and orders two American beers._

 _She was working up a pretty decent snit, he could tell by her scowl. "How'd you find me? I'm off the clock."_

" _It's the only club in town that favors your dreadful 80's music." He made a face, indicating his disapproval of the selection that was currently deafening him._

 _Holtzmann rolled her eyes. "Hey, this is '_ Brass in Pocket' _by the Pretenders. It's a freaking classic."_

" _The Pretenders," Artie chuffed. "Quite well named. If you want classic 80's…Cat Stevens…"_

" _Oh hell no," she shook her head._

 _Arthur defended. "No? 'Wild World'? That's a classic. My favorite song, in fact."_

" _For one thing, that was the 70s. For another…" Holtzmann made a show of putting her finger down her throat and uttered a gagging noise. "Poison. Bret Michaels. 'Every Rose Has It's Thorns'."_

" _The cowboy? That figures. Fine, how about The Doors? 'Break On Through'?"_

 _She actually didn't argue this time. "Still not the 80's. Not even close. But-nope, I can't insult Morrison."_

 _He grinned. "Ah-ha, got the last word with you for once. 'Dear Diary'…"_

 _She did a double-take. "Did you just make a joke, Klein?"_

 _Arthur raised an eyebrow. "I'm known to do that on occasion—when someone isn't constantly interrupting me."_

" _And another one! So, you do have a sense of humor. See, now I feel bad for sticking your Blackberry in the liquid nitrogen tank before I left the lab…" The bartender delivered their drinks. Holtzmann took a long pull from her bottle. "…but in my defense, who still carries a Blackberry?"_

 _Arthur thumbed the label of his own bottle. "I wouldn't feel too badly about that. You'll find all twelve of your Munchkin socks are currently adorning the hooves of several prize mares at an Equestrian Center outside of town."_

 _Holtzmann nodded, in fact, she held out her beer bottle to show her approval. "Nice one. Respect."_

 _Artie clinked her bottle with his own._

 _She asked again. "So, why'd you follow me-?"_

 _Artie's phone beeped. "Pardon me for a moment," he apologizes before answering. "Klein here. Harry! How's London? Has your aunt got you registered for class yet? Splendid! Yes, I should be able to take a holiday in a few weeks. We're a bit behind schedule, but I have a feeling we're about to make some progress. I'm looking forward to seeing you soon. Harry, I can't hear you, it's rather loud in here. I'll call you later. Mind your aunt. I love you, too, son." He hung up, pocketing the phone. "My apologies."_

" _Not a problem. So, why'd you follow me?" she repeated._

" _I need your help solving a problem."_

 _She waited._

" _My problem is that my ass is on the line to complete the upgrades to the Hadron Collider and it's my neck if anything at all goes wrong. Currently, half of my team think your barking mad and the other half believe that Dr. Gorin sent you as some sort of wicked joke on us all."_

 _Holtzmann took another swallow of beer. "I think her exact words were 'be a hemorrhoid in his pompous ass."_

" _Sounds about right. The only point they agree on is that they're all utterly terrified of you. So, tell me, how am I supposed to finish a project of this scale with this much chaos?"_

 _She stared at the bar for a minute, spinning her coaster in circles with one finger. "They think I'm crazy. What do you think, doc?"_

 _Arthur took a stab at complete honesty. "I think you're a bloody genius, and the rub is that you are very aware of it. You're actually the only person on my team that I fully trust, Jillian, because you're neither a fool nor an ass-kisser, and, incidentally you're not wrong about Rand and Coleman. They'd rather I sent you back to the States. I'm not sure I agree. I need a problem-solver, a real problem-solver. We could do remarkable work here if we could just figure out how to work together. In that spirit, I promise to put the specs back the way you designed them if you promise to stop-how do you Americans say it?-'busting my balls'?"_

 _Holtzmann actually swiveled her seat to look at him. She held out her bottle again. "To Détente?"_

" _Détente."_

" _I give it two days."_

" _Three at most." Arthur hid his grin around another swallow of beer._

 _The on-site tests went south almost as soon as the power began to flow._

 _Alarms began to blare, the energy spiked out of control. Holtzmann wasn't able to shut it down from the control center, so she headed down the access tunnels to shut the junction down manually. It was tricky work with the building shaking, threatening to come down around her. They'd installed two identical, redundant systems meant to shut down the flow of power to the collider during an emergency. Artie went to manually shut down the second one._

 _Holtzmann walked away with only a couple of bumps and bruises, a broken thumb and a nasty electrical burn on her hand. She'd managed to shut down the chain reaction before it took out more than a couple of the magnets and a section of the southern side of the building._

 _Artie had taken the access tunnel to the south. It had collapsed on him. It was miraculous that he was still alive by the time they dug him out. The coma, the doctors determined, was most likely irreversible._

 _Holtzmann had tried to figure it out afterword. She'd been so certain—the synchrotron should have worked. The accelerators should have worked. The magnets should have held. There was no reason why the power levels should have spiked out of control._

 _In the end, it didn't matter. Dr. Klein was in the hospital, unlikely to ever leave, and someone had to take the blame for the disaster. Globaldyne had put on a good show for the media. They arranged for his care at the finest medical facilities in Switzerland, as well as paying off the college tuition for his son, Harry, who was essentially orphaned by his father's accident. Harry ended up in the custody of his aunt in England._

 _The company sent the team for grief counseling, which graduated into a psychiatric evaluation and extended hospital stay for Holtzmann after most of them filed reports describing her behavior as "irrational", "unstable", "borderline hostile" and her work as "dangerous" and "reckless". Globaldyne kept it quiet in the media to avoid public accusations of allowing a 'madwoman' access to the Large Hadron Collider. Even Dr. Gorin wouldn't return Holtzmann's calls after that._

" _Cured" after several months of therapy for anger management and what her doctor called "survivor guilt" (along with a laundry list of other psychobabble diagnoses she didn't bother memorizing), Holtzmann had been living in Grand Central Station when she found Abby's flyer advertising for a research assistant ("experience with applied paranormal physics and engineering preferred, apply at the Kenneth T. Higgins Institute")._

Kevin broke into Holtzmann's troubled thoughts. "What about possession? You can't possess people like that Rowan ghost dude, can you?" He sounded a little nervous about this, but she figured he was still creeped out about being possessed by Rowan.

She was game to try. "Dunno. Let's find out."

"The 'why' is important. Holtz said he asked for help." Erin stood up from the couch and started pacing back and forth, which meant she was going into full 'professor mode'.

Holtzmann couldn't resist: She put herself in Erin's path and gave the 'possession' thing a shot. Erin walked right through her.

Jillian shrugged. "Nope. Can't do that. That's disappointing, cause there's nine or ten people I'd be visiting tonight."

Erin gave a shudder. "Hey! I felt that!" It was a creepy sensation, like a blast of cold right down her spine. "Holtz, did you just try to possess me?!" Erin looked to Kevin. "Did she just try to possess me?!"

"All in the name of the scientific method, Professor," Holtzmann went back to her spot sitting on the nightstand.

"She said it was the scenic method," Kevin relayed.

Patty rubbed her chin. "The scenic method? Oh, great, Kevin's going to translate what Holtzmann says for us. That's going to be like translating Latin to English using a Klingon Dictionary."

There was no sidetracking Erin once she was on a roll. "As I was saying, Arthur asked for Holtz's help. Holtz, did he say anything after that?"

"Nope. He just did his best impersonation of Linda Blair in 'The Exorcist' and went out the window," Holtzmann said. Kevin repeated it to Erin.

"Assuming we can rule out romantic attachment, what would he want Holtz to help him with?" Erin wondered.

"He's been in a coma for three years. I'm pretty sure he wants to wake up," Patty offered.

"Or maybe he needs help crossing over," Abby added.

"I still have his copy of ' _Eat. Pray. Love'_. He might just want that back," Holtzmann said.

Abby keyed in on something else. "He's been out of body for three years. Three years of no one being able to see him or hear him. Complete isolation. Erin, you and I did some papers on the effects of long-term isolation on a disembodied spirit."

Erin nodded. "At a certain point, the spirit reaches a kind of a 'critical mass', where it's caught between the pull of humanity and the pull of the spiritual plane. The internal conflict becomes a kind of psychosis-if those spirits don't cross over, they become things like poltergeists."

"Ew, there's a disturbing Coming Attraction," Holtzmann shuddered a bit. "Although…I think I could be an awesome poltergeist..."

"Abby, you said that Holtzmann was with Arthur when he had his accident. Maybe she's the last person he remembers from his humanity. Maybe he's fixated on her as his link to the living world."

"If that's true, why did he crack open her skull? Why rip apart the hospital?" Patty wanted to know.

"That's the pull of the spiritual realm…the dark part of the spiritual realm," Abby said. "Holtz fought back. The spectral part of him perceived her as a threat and counterattacked."

"Like Jekyll and Hyde?" Patty supplied.

"Close enough."

"Well, we can't let him keep coming after Holtz," Abby insisted. "So, we have basically three options: Get him back into his body somehow, get him to crossover, or get him contained."

"So, let's assess," Erin continued. "We know that the proton accelerators and the grenades definitely do not work on Artie and the PKE will only read the most extreme activity on his part, which makes sense since he's technically not a ghost. He's out of body like…" She noticed Abby's glare and didn't finish that sentence. "Anyhow, it's probably safe to assume that the traps won't hold him either."

"Great, but we don't have a special trap for disembodied spirits," Patty pointed out. "Do we?"

Holtzmann smelled a challenge. "I could build one…if I was back in my body." She frowned at her useless ghost hands. It was her turn to jump up and start pacing, feeling her mental wheels are already turning.

"And if we had one, we couldn't use it anyway without risking Holtz getting pulled in, too. Abby's right," Erin conceded Abby's point.

Abby nodded. "Which is why we should focus on how to get Jillian out of her coma and then deal with Artie."

Holtzmann was ignoring them, getting wrapped up in her own rapid thoughts. "…I mean, a disembodied spirit isn't a 'ghost' in the sense that they lack any sort of physical or metaphysical substance. No ghost flesh, which means no ectoplasm…but there has to be something, some kind of energy that the trap could latch onto..."

Erin heard the tension underlying Abby's words. "Abby, the doctor's doing all he can. They're running every test they have. She's got a pretty severe concussion, she probably won't wake up until the swelling in her brain goes down. Meanwhile, she's a sitting duck waiting for Artie to try to kill her again if we don't figure out how to contain him."

Patty shook her head. "Man, I don't know what channel _you're_ tuned into, but there is nothing about that girl that's a 'sitting duck'. They'll be finding hospital utensils in Jersey for the next two months." She smiled proudly. "That's why I love Holtz: She reminds me of my baby sister, Jo Rita. They're both this big-" She held her finger about a hair's breadth apart. "-and bat shit crazy. Anyway, I heard you can use music for coma patients. Stimulates neural activity or something like that."

Holtzmann snapped her finger. _Light bulb!_ "…Yes! Patty, you beautiful genius! It's so simple! I don't need to build a new trap. It's like tuning a radio, I just have to figure out which 'frequency' is Artie's and program the trap. I just need to…I just need my body. Or a competent translator who could help me tell Abby how to recalibrate the traps. No offense, buddy," she told Kevin.

Kevin blinked. "Hmm? Oh, that's okay, I stopped listening after you started talking about ghost Metamucil."

"I said metaphy-never mind," Holtzmann wasn't going to waste her breath trying to correct him.

"I heard about neural stimulation heal-" Abby paused, mid-though, and gave Kevin a quizzical stare. "I'm sorry, sweetie, but what is Jillian saying that you head 'ghost Metamucil'?"

"She probably said 'metaphysical'. Kevin always gets those two mixed up," Erin had observed.

"I think she wants a radio or something," he answered.

Holtzmann sighed. "Yeah, that's not even close to right…"

Erin tried to second guess Kevin's translation. "Radio? What would she want with a radio?"

It didn't sound too weird to Patty. "Holtz does like her music."

"But that can't be what Holtz was talking about."

Kevin was slightly insulted by their doubt. "No. She said that ghost Metamucil is like tuning a radio."

Patty wanted to cry or start ramming her head against the wall. "Yeah, that makes way more sense."

Once again, the conversation stopped as the orderlies and nurses brought Holtzmann back and got her resettled in the bed. Holtzmann watched herself, still extremely creeped out by the whole situation.

The nurse informed them: "Dr. Menken will be in as soon as we have the results."

"Thank you," Abby said.

Erin was stuck on the request for the radio. Obviously, Kevin had garbled Holtzmann's words, but there had to be just a kernel of accuracy in what he'd said. "No, wait, wait…tuning a radio? That makes sense. Disembodied spirits…superficially, they're like ghosts, but there are major fundamental differences. If you think about the spiritual realm like a radio, ghosts and disembodied spirits would be on different frequencies."

Holtzmann could have screamed. "Which is what I just said, if you could just hear me…"

"That's a way oversimplified analogy, but I think I follow what you're thinking, Holtz. You're talking about finding the specific energies generated by a disembodied specter versus a full-on apparition and using that to reprogram the proton packs and the traps to work on Artie." Erin was pleased with herself for figuring that out. "Except, I have no idea how to do that. Holtzmann's the one who built the gear. I'd be afraid of hitting the wrong wire and vaporizing Brooklyn or something."

"Yeah, that could happen. I'd love to explain how to do it if I didn't have Forest Gump for my interpreter." Holtzmann complained. "If I had my hands…wait, I think I have an idea. Kevin, tell them I need to go to the firehouse."

Kevin obliged, "Holtz is going to the firehouse."

Abby, Erin, and Patty all moved to block the door, futile though that effort might be when Holtzmann could just walk through the wall if necessary. "What?!" they chorused.

Holtzmann explained, "I need my tools."

Kevin repeated, "She wants her tools."

"For what? Ammunition? Kevin, where is she now?"

Kevin pointed to the nightstand.

Abby turned towards the table, "Where? Here? Am I looking at her?"

"Slightly left," Kevin said.

Holtzmann couldn't resist waving Abby over like a runway worker guiding in an airplane. "Here comes the lecture…"

"Holtz, you can't go to the firehouse. We don't know how distance from your soul affects your body…" Abby paused. "…she's making that face at me, isn't she?"

Kevin checked. "Not anymore."

"Snitches get stitches, Kev," Holtzmann warned. "Tell her Artie's manifesting miles from his body. Doesn't seem to be slowing him down."

Kevin scratched his head. "Something about Artie," he relayed.

"Ah, Kevin," Holtzmann hung her head in exasperation. _Three years of this and she really would go as nuts as Artie…_

Patty had a suggestion: "We could bring her tools here."

Erin gave that some thought. "Yes. Well, no, there's no room. Plus, I don't think Menken's going to go for that. He's still pretty mad about the kitchen."

"…besides what are you going to do with your tools? It's not like you can use them. Knocking down trash cans with psychokinetic energy is one thing, but delicate engineering is something else," Abby said.

Holtzmann looked at Kevin. "I could literally go to the firehouse and back in the time this conversation is taking. They'd never know I was gone…"

"Doesn't the hospital have a basement? Maybe Holtz can just give us the instructions and we can go do the work. Abby's a pretty good engineer when she needs to be," Patty thought that was a good solution.

Abby recapped: "So, let's have Holtz tell Kevin tell me how to make Ghost Metamucil. Yeah, what could go wrong? And, supposing she somehow manages to get her point across with Kevin so that we can understand how to modify the equipment-what then? How do we test it? The only disembodied spirit we have is Holtzmann. You want to test the gear on her? Put her in the trap?"

Certainly, Erin and Patty weren't keen on that idea. Holtzmann, on the other hand, found the notion intriguing. "I hadn't thought about that! Can you imagine the chance to see what it's like inside the trap?"

"It's kind of small," Kevin pointed out. "How would you fit?"

Erin interrupted. "Sorry, you two, I'm not crazy about the idea of Holtz leaving the hospital either, but I doubt anyone else can makes heads or tails of her gear, except maybe that Dr. Gorin lady."

Patty could see that Abby was in danger of having a serious freak out over the whole field trip idea. "Tell you what, Erin, Abby, both of you go with Holtz. I'll stay here and, if it looks like the separation's having any effect on her, if those tests Menken show anything, any sign of trouble, I'll call and you three haul it back here. We're wasting time arguing about this. That Artie creep is gonna be back here as soon as he pulls his tail out from between his legs after the ass-kicking Holtz gave him."

Holtzmann clapped. "Always did like how you think, Patty. Right, then. Kevin, let's go. Come on. Run, Forest, run!" She ushered him to the door.

Erin followed, but Abby balked. She glanced at the hospital bed hesitantly.

Patty moved to stand beside her. "Abby, I'm scared, too. But, I'm not going to let anything happen to our baby girl. You know that, right?"

Abby requested: "I need a minute alone with Jillian first, guys. Both Jillians. Please?"

Erin and Patty nodded and quietly slipped out into the hallway, tugging Kevin along with them.

Holtzmann settled herself at the foot of the bed, bracing for a scolding from Abby. Abby sat back down in her same seat next to the bed. She had no idea where in the room Holtzmann was standing, but that would probably make it easier to say what she had to say.

"I know you, Jillian. I know you're probably having a blast exploring telekinesis and all this coma ghost stuff. I'll bet you've always wanted to have an out-of-body experience just to see what it's like."

Holtzmann was glad Abby couldn't see the guilty look that must have crossed her face at the spot-on accusation.

Abby reached over the rail and once again took up Holtz's hand, which was still too cold for Abby's comfort. "That's one of the things I love about you-you can always find the joy in any situation, no matter how bad things get. I know you get all squirmy and uncomfortable with the big emotions. So, I'm glad that you have to listen to me this time, because I'm going to get real with you. Here it is: I need you to come back. I need you to try. And you need to know, it's not because we can't be Ghostbusters without you-but we can't. Nobody can build the machines you can build. I mean, you're either an authentic genius or a certified wacko."

Holtzmann beamed. "Aww…my therapist used to tell me the same thing."

"Even if we could do it ourselves, I wouldn't. I'd close the doors, toss my research in the dumpster, and never look back. I don't want to do any of this without you. That day you showed up to apply to be my research partner…you came along at the absolute worst time of my entire life. I had nothing. If you hadn't showed up when you did…you got me through it. I'd lost my best friend, my job, my credibility. Hell, my own parents wouldn't return my calls-" Abby quirked her eyebrow. "Of course, they won't return my calls _now_ since you had to make a Taser out of that turkey fork and zap my cousin Barbara at our family reunion."

"Barbie was being a little bitty bitch." Holtzmann fumed at the memory. She'd do it again in a heartbeat.

"You gave me my confidence back. You gave me my hope back. You were my friend when nobody else gave a crap. Nobody else would Taser my cousin just because she called me 'fat'. Yes, I knew. I love Patty to death, and Erin's back and I love her, too. If I lost either of them, I'd be devastated because I'd be losing my best friends. But, if I lost you…that'd be it. I'd be losing my sister. I'd be losing a part of me I couldn't ever get back."

Abby brushed impatiently at her eyes. She hated to cry. "So, if you don't quit screwing around and get your ass back where you belong and wake up, I'll…well, I don't know. I'll—I'll take every piece of junk in that lab of yours, weld it all into a fountain and…set it out in front of M.I.T."

Holtzmann's eyes widened. "You wouldn't dare…"

 _Arthur Klein still remembered the last day of his real life._

 _He recalled climbing into the access tunnels side-by-side with her as the walls of the facility threatened to come down on both of them. He hadn't been afraid—not of dying, though if the tunnels collapsed, he surely would die. He'd been afraid of a cataclysm of global proportions, a possibility he would have dismissed as ludicrous as recently as that morning._

 _Arthur thought briefly of his Audrey, gone these five years now. If his foolish pride got him killed today, he would at least finally get to see her again. He thought of his son back in England, probably engaged in some tedious classroom, ticking away the minutes to his freedom for the day._

 _Jillian's voice had been in his ear the entire time Arthur had been in the access tube, conveying shut down procedures over the radio in an icy calm tone when he finally reached the first of the modules. This time, he listened without questioning her for an instant. Jillian had built every component of the upgrades, she knew what to do._

 _She'd been gone before he woke up this morning. Arthur hadn't had the chance to apologize for letting things go too far last night. He hoped she didn't think he made a habit of drinking too much and seducing his colleagues._

 _Jillian was going to be furious with him when she investigated the accident and discovered what he'd done, but he would deal with her wrath after they were safe. Arthur didn't care if he lost his job, he didn't care if he had to die as long as Harry would be safe._

 _Her voice in his ear was the last thing he remembered before the crush of mortar raining down when the weakened tunnel wall finally gave way._

Arthur sat in a corner of the trauma ward, staring at the wreckage of the hospital, watching the janitors clean up the mess from his fight with Jillian. He smiled despite himself. _Her wrath should not be underestimated…_

She didn't know what was coming…the madness of complete isolation from humanity that would soon ebb into her psyche and eat away at her own humanity. It would be worse knowing that he had been the cause of it. Truly, he had never anticipating the situation getting this far out of hand. _Ripples on a pond,_ he mused. _Alter one tiny component on a schematic, switch one circuit board…now look what had happened._

Arthur didn't want to go anywhere near her again. He knew he shouldn't, knew that it was beyond his ability to control the beast within anymore. Yet, what other choice did he have? He would have to find a way, beg her forgiveness, and hope she'd know what to do just one last time.


	5. Chapter 5

_A.N.: Same warnings abound for language, sci-fi violence, and intense situations. And I still don't own the characters (see chapter 1 for full disclaimers and credits)._

 **5**

" _ **The Trap"**_

Holtzmann, Abby, Erin, and Kevin had gathered on the second floor of their headquarters, which predominantly served as Holtz's lab. They had laid out three of the proton accelerators, a spectrometer, one of the traps, and a pair of Ecto goggles on one table. Erin and Abby had taken charge of the recalibration for the goggles, which left Holtz to tackle the larger problem of the accelerator and the trap.

"So, Kevin can actually see Holtz and Artie, which means that coma ghosts…" Erin hated the imprecise term, and especially hated using it in reference to her friend, but 'disembodied spirits' was too much of a mouthful. "…do manifest on some part of the visual spectrum. We just have to cycle through until we figure out which part of the spectrum it is. That should give us some sort of starting point."

Abby had settled into a groove: Adjust the Ecto goggles, aim the goggles to the table where Kevin (and presumably Holtz) was standing, and then, seeing nothing but Kevin, making another adjustment to the goggles and trying again.

"Kevin, come here. Stand right behind me." Holtzmann waved him to the table. Despite the appearance of chaos, her lab and equipment were always kept precisely organized, so at least it had been fairly simple to walk him through gathering the items she needed from their various cubbies, shelves, and drawers. Now came the hard part. "We're going to play a game of Follow the Leader. I'm the leader, you're the follower."

He grinned. "I rock at this game."

She extended her hands. "Put your hands right where mine are, okay?"

He did. "I feel like that dude in ' _Ghost'_."

"That's fine, except we aren't making pottery, Kev, this is nuclear physics," Holtzmann instructed. "Now, here's the game: Whatever I pick up off this table, you pick up. Wherever I move my hands, you move your hands. You follow my movements exactly. No improvising. No messing with anything because you 'think the blinky lights are pretty'. _Only_ do what I do. Am I crystal clear on that?"

"Yeah, yeah. What do I get if I win the game?" Kevin wanted to know.

"I'll buy you that recliner with the ice chest built in the arm rest that you keep babbling about," she promised.

"Oh, sweet! Um, but what happens if I mess it up?"

Holtzmann warned him: "I glue your nostrils together while you're sleeping."

"Fair enough."

"Ask Erin how she's doing with that mass spectrometer?"

Kevin obliged. "Erin, how's the Spirograph?"

"It's still not showing anything," Erin reported. "But, if Holtz is giving off any kind of energy signature, this will find it."

Holtzmann was going that same information when she was ready to do the final recalibration of the proton accelerator. But, first, she had to carefully guide Kevin through disassembling the outer shell of the pack so that she could get to the internal components. She swatted through his hand each time his movements varied from hers. "No…Kevin…that's the wire that makes everyone within a five block radius turn into a little poof of dust if you cut it. Let's not touch that one. Watch me. Like this..."

An hour passed this way.

Finally, Abby let out little strangled cry of joy. She had been up to about the fortieth wavelength test on the Ecto goggles…when she saw something. Overlaid with the human-shaped larger blob that she knew was Kevin, there was definitely a second shape. "Oh my god…I see her! I see you Holtz!"

Erin dropped what she was doing and ran to snatch the goggles out of Abby's hands so she could see for herself. She made a quiet noise like a strangled sob. "It works! I can see you…I mean, you're reading as a blurry blob of blue..."

"You're sure it's me? Quick, how many fingers am I holding up?"

"Oh, that's nice," Erin scolded lightly. "I'm still happy to see you."

Patty was quickly becoming restless waiting at the hospital worrying about what she'd do if that Artie creep attacked before they got their gear recalibrated. Sitting in Abby's abandoned chair by, listening for even the slightest noise that might indicate the ghost's return, she almost jumped out of her skin when her cell phone rang.

"Erin?" Patty answered.

"Patricia Tolan?"

Not Erin. Patty didn't immediately recognize the voice. _I've really got to look at the caller id before I answer this thing._ "Yeah, what?"

"This is Jennifer Lynch from the Mayor's office," the speaker identified herself.

Patty had almost forgotten the phone call she'd made to the mayor's office that morning. She'd had to sneak in the call while Erin was in the donut shop. It wasn't that she didn't trust Erin or Abby; it was just that this was a personal matter…plus, it bordered on blackmailing an elected official. She didn't want her friends on the hook for that, too. "Sorry, it's been bad day. You find that file I asked you about?"

"I did. However, you do realize it would be illegal for me to release this information to you?" Lynch asked.

"You realize you still owe us for preventing the Apocalypse and getting your boy re-elected?" Patty reminded her. Lynch's silence must have implied agreement. "Put your skinny butt in a cab and bring it down here."

She ended the call before the woman could argue. It wasn't Lynch's fault that Patty was in a pissy mood; Patty knew she shouldn't take it out on her.

"Sorry, didn't mean to yell," she apologized to Holtzmann. "I sure hope you aren't angry with me when you wake up, baby girl. I'm not trying to poke my nose where it doesn't belong. You know that, right?"

Patty watched the blips on the monitors, letting them reassure her that her friend was still with them and therefore, on some level, was listening. She wasn't sure how that worked when Holtz was physically lying in a hospital bed while her spirit was several blocks away in the firehouse. There was no end to the bizarre scenarios Patty had encountered since she joined the Ghostbusters.

She leaned against the bed rail, feeling compelled to explain herself. "It's just-I grew up in a big family. I mean four brothers, two sisters, two step-sisters, nine cousins, three aunts, two uncles, and a partridge in a pear tree. Big. All living within six blocks of each other. We drove each other out of our minds like you wouldn't believe. But, that was fine because family is everything to us. You look out for family and your family looks out for you, and that's all there is to it. It's a great feeling to have that.

"What you told us before, after that whole business with Rowan, about finally having a family-that got to me. I mean you surprised me being real with us like that. I appreciated the sentiment, but I didn't hear what you were really saying. Not until today, anyway. Don't be upset with Abby for telling us about the Englebrights and Chuck and all those other losers, okay? I can't imagine what it was like for you growing up without that feeling. It hurts my heart, baby girl. I know family ain't all fun and games like _Brady Bunch_. I've worked in the subway. I've been a hospital janitor. I volunteered at the youth center on my block. I've seen how many ways family can go wrong. I've seen all the bad things that can happen on the streets, especially to a kid. The idea of little Jillian Holtzmann being out on those streets, being in families that couldn't appreciate how amazing you must have been-" Patty had a cold shiver of terror down to her soul thinking about all the horrible things that could have happened to a teenage girl. "-I don't know how you could go through all that and still find the joy in life the way you do."

It truly did scare Patty. She'd always been a little extra protective towards the engineer anyway. Maybe it was because Patty had been the one who stopped Rowan from dropping Holtz out a two story window and kept that psycho ax-wielding ghost from decapitating her-that whole philosophy that when you saved someone's life you became responsible for that life (was that Sun Tzu? Buddha? Confucius? Aristotle? Maybe Patty had heard it on an old rerun of _Kung Fu_.). Maybe it was just because with great big bag of crazy packed into the tiny scientist, Holtzmann needed someone to protect her from her own madness.

Patty continued, "You and Abby and Erin probably don't believe in God? Sorry if that's a touchy question. I took an astronomy class once-no, seriously-and the first day the teacher told us that studying the universe like that made some people lose their faith in God. Not me, though. The more she taught me about the complexities of the universe, how it all fit together, the more I believed. Now that I'm with you all and doing what we do, seeing there really is an afterlife, just makes me believe even more. And I believe that sometimes He has to allow the bad things in our lives come along to help steer eventually steer us to the good."

Patty reached out and squeezed Holtzmann's hand. "I hate that you had to go through all that bad, and if you ever do get around to building that time machine, believe me that's the first thing I'm going back and fixing. But, I'm grateful that all that bad brought you to me and Abby and Erin. I'm honored to have all you for my family."

Footsteps pounding into the room cuts off Patty's words. Dr. Menken rushed into the room with the nurse, another doctor, and a couple of orderlies. They pushed past Patty to gather around Holtzmann. Patty didn't like the look on their faces on bit. "What's going on?"

"Your friend was right to be worried. Our scans found the beginning of a bleeder from the blunt force trauma. It wasn't on the scans when she was first brought in. Fortunately we caught it early," Menken explained.

"A what?" Patty had to jump out of their way. "Wait-what does that mean? You gotta do brain surgery on her?" _She needed to call Erin and Abby and hope that isn't as bad as it sounds, but it surely wasn't good…_

"Not the brain, the spleen. Probably the impact when she was slammed into the door or the bath tub," Menken guessed.

That was the moment an irregular blip on the monitors that drew all everyone's attention.

Once Holtzmann had the visual wavelength as a jumping off point, it became a pretty simple matter to find the right energy signature with the spectrometer. After that, recalibration of the accelerators had been easy (except for making sure Kevin didn't accidentally vaporize something while he was acting as her hands). From there, Holtzmann walked Kevin in baby steps through making the same adjustment to one of the traps.

She found it actually kind of exhilarating to ponder that there might be more ghosts existing outside the normal human capability to perceive within the limits of their five senses and ESP. Ghosts that might exist within infinite dimensions they didn't have the ability to comprehend much less access with modern technology.

It was also rather unsettling, but Holtzmann didn't want to think about the more negative ramifications of that theory. Arthur was a ghost that they could now see, with energy they could now trace and lock onto with the proton accelerator. In a few minutes, he'd be a ghost they finally had the capability to contain.

For her part, Abby was grateful that, with the Ecto goggles, they were finally able to see Holtzmann and therefore would be able to see Artie next time he took a run at their friend. At the same time, it was deeply unsettling to realize she was basically looking at the ghost of her friend. Calling Jillian a 'psychic imprint' or a 'disembodied spirit' just softens the edges of the harsh reality of the situation. To distract herself from that morbid thought, Abby calibrated a second set of Ecto goggles for Erin.

Erin was on the lower level, which was a safer place to test fire the recalibrated proton packs. She had set up the spectrometer to measure the proton stream's new energy signature and make sure it matched up with Artie's. They wouldn't know for certain it would work until they could actually try it on the ghost himself.

"If this works, the applications could be tremendous," Erin called. "Of course, it's also going to require building some safety protocols into the accelerators. If there are other…others like Artie, who are just out of body and not the malevolent deceased, we don't want to accidentally trap them. Okay, I think this is ready for a test fire."

"Hang on, we're coming." Abby took the stairs, but Kevin naturally had to use the fire pole.

"Kevin, do not drop that trap," Holtzmann called after him.

"Yeah, yeah, I left it on the table. Don't' worry." he waved her off.

"Holtz, are you clear?" Erin called.

"She's fine," Kevin answered. "She's upstairs."

Erin nodded. "All right. Test firing accelerator number one." She let loose a small burst of proton stream. Her first observation was that the stream had blue tint thanks to the recalibrations.

Upstairs, Holtzmann's knees suddenly buckled…or at least she had a similar sensation to that, since technically speaking she didn't have knees at the moment. For an instant, her vision went white. It almost felt like an attack of vertigo…

At the hospital, Patty grabbed Dr. Menken and pointed to Jillian's monitor. "What was that blip? Why's it doing that?"

"Looks like she almost went into V-fib for a moment," Menken says.

"Test firing accelerator number two…" Erin called.

Holtzmann heard the crackle of the particle stream downstairs. There came again the dizzy sensation, the blinding white light that overwhelmed her senses…but this time was worse. She felt something else…some impulse to attack, to shut down the stream, to run away…

 _Fight or flight response._ The distant, intellectual part of her mind recognized this and knew it was some kind of reaction to proximity to the beam. _This must be how the ghosts felt when the Ghostbusters fired at them._ Understanding the feeling didn't make it easier for Holtzmann to resist.

The monitor blipped a second time. Patty quickly dialed her phone.

The beep of the phone interrupted Erin. She saw Patty's number on the screen and quickly answered. "Patty? Is Holtz okay?"

"No, she's not. Are you all doing something with the gear right now?" Patty asked.

"We test fired the proton accelerators a couple of times, but-"

"Two times?!" _Two shots, two fluctuations on the monitor,_ Patty thought. "You didn't test it on Holtz, did you?"

The question offended Erin. "Patty! Of course not! What kind of question is that-?"

Holtzmann shook off the effects of the proton blast, pushing down the instinct to attack. It hadn't even been twenty-four hours since Holtzmann's accident and the weapons could already trigger this strong a reaction…she suddenly had real understanding why Arthur hadn't been able to keep from lashing out.

She stared at the trap that Kevin had left on the work table.

 _What was the trap going to do to Arthur if they had to use it on him_?

Holtzmann had been wrapped up in the challenge of catching ghosts and keeping them in containment when she built the traps. She had never stopped to wonder what the trap would be like from the ghost's perspective. She figured it was contain the ghosts or else they would run amok until they destroyed the living. That choice was a no-brainer.

She'd never faced the possibility on using it to contain someone she actually cared about.

Was it like suspended animation? An eternity without sensation or awareness? Was it like being in some alternate dimension-infinite wandering or cramped and claustrophobic?

And what if the trap failed? Artie might actually kill her next time, or worse, he might kill her friends. Her family.

She couldn't take that chance.

Holtzmann waved her hand and the trap popped open.

Downstairs, Abby and Erin head a familiar roar of energy coming from the second floor. They looked up to see the glow of bright white light from an open trap.

They both ran for the stairs, shouting Jillian's name.

Holtzmann flat-lined.

Dr. Menken and the other medics scrambled for a crash cart, shouting instructions back and forth.

Patty yelled into the phone: "Erin-whatever the hell you just did- _STOP_! Jillian's crashing!"

"We didn't do anything! Holtz opened the trap herself!" Erin's heart threatened to pound its way out of her chest as she raced up the staircase. Upstairs, she and Abby dove for the trap.

"SHE'S IN THE TRAP?!"

"Hang on a second, Patty." Erin set the phone aside as she and Abby scrambling with shaking hands to deploy the foot pedal and slamming their fists down onto the trigger.

 _If she were to guess, Holtzmann supposed this is what an 'acid trip' might be like._

 _The white light when the trap open twisted into a veritable rainbow of distorted colors, feelings of barely controlled terror, the urgent need to escape…it was sensory overload._

 _Her life really did flash before her eyes, just like it had when Rowan had dangled her out that window. This time, she didn't see Chuck and that rocket or the classroom full of angry students she had almost vaporized back in engineering school…she saw the Holtzmanns. She saw Gary the veteran. They were smiling at Jillian, extending hands that invited her to stay there with them._

 _Holy shit, was she actually dead? Had the trap just killed her?_

 _Escape, escape, escape…the need was overwhelming…_

And then, miraculously, she was out just like waking from a nightmare. The myriad colors and images were gone. There was only the firehouse. Erin and Abby were both holding the open trap while Kevin watched them fumble with the device.

"It's terrible in there!" Holtzmann said. "I mean, it was so freaking awesome! Horrible, but awesome."

"Kevin, is she back?! Is she out?!" Abby screamed at the receptionist. Then she remembered the Ecto goggles perched on her forehead and pulled them down to look for herself. She sagged to the floor in relief when she saw the familiar blue energy blur nearby. She pointed a trembling finger at Jillian, "Holtz…if you ever do that again…oh my god, what does a heart attack feel like? Left arm or right arm?"

Menken had the defibrillator paddles ready when the monitors suddenly kicked back to life. Patty held her breath and prayed, watching as the display settled into what she hoped was normal rhythm.

She became aware that Erin was shouting into the cell phone. "Is she out of the trap?" Patty barked into the phone.

"Yes…is she-?" Erin started.

Patty exhaled. She glanced at Holtzmann. "Damn, you've got to stop scaring me like that, baby." _The girl had probably just taken ten years' off Patty's life._

"She's stable for now. We have to get that bleeding under control." Menken and the orderlies resumed their preparations.

Erin overheard that part. "What did he just say?"

"Get back here. Now!" Patty told her.


	6. Chapter 6

_A.N.: Same warnings abound for language, sci-fi violence, and intense situations. And I still don't own the characters (see chapter 1 for full disclaimers and credits)._

 **6**

" _ **Worth the Fall"**_

Setting the trap turned out to be harder than the Ghostbusters anticipated.

Menken had taken Holtzmann into emergency surgery. It was dangerous in her current condition, but with her spleen about to rupture, he had no choice. The surgery would take several hours, he'd said. That turned the entire surgical ward into the most likely place for Arthur to next manifest. There were two floors of patients directly above the surgical ward.

Luckily, there was also a basement directly below, with several feet of solid concrete isolating it from the rooms above. Decades ago, in the age of the arms race, it had been a public fallout shelter. It would be enough to shield the upper floors from the effects of their weapons. It was the best the Ghostbusters could have asked for in these circumstances.

Menken had still insisted on evacuating as many patients as possible to other hospitals or to the rooms farthest from the surgical ward. He was not thrilled with the idea of remaining in the fight zone, but he had a patient who needed him and that took priority over his own personal safety.

They weren't worried about finding Arthur; he was sure to come find them. All they had to do was wait.

Still, there had been debate among the group. It seemed obvious that, as Artie's body was still alive, if they put him in the trap, his body would die from the instant disconnection from its soul, just like Holtzmann almost had.

"I'm going to play devil's advocate: Are we just going to shove Artie into a trap knowing it's going kill him?" Patty felt the question needed to be asked.

Abby had been doing the same soul searching…and not just since the incident at the firehouse. The first moment she'd gone to Holtzmann's apartment and found her friend half-dead on the bathroom floor, she'd been wrestling with the instinct to hunt down this ghost and wipe it off the face of the earth. She knew she was capable of holding a grudge, but until yesterday she had not known she was capable of those depths of anger.

She did comprehend the depths of hate that could exist within the undead, however. Rowan had possessed her; she'd tasted his madness, the same madness she imaged held Arthur Klein in its grip now. That kind of madness did not stop. You couldn't reason with that kind of madness. It had to be terrifying to lose your grasp on your sanity to the point where you can actually hate and even harm someone you're supposed to love. She was less optimistic that Artie's ever going to give up or settle for crossing over. Much as she pitied him, Abby would have no qualms about putting Artie through the ghost chipper if that's what it would take to protect her friend. He wasn't taking Jillian.

So, she was blunt: "Not to sound like a complete bitch, but why the hell not? We've had to kill ghosts before. What other options do we have? We have to treat Arthur Klein as if he were any other ghost. We can't leave him running loose to do whatever he wants."

"It's easier when we don't know the ghost personally," Erin said. The only thing she knew for sure was that, if and when that time came, she'd be the one to put Arthur in the trap. Patty and Abby were both right: They had killed ghosts before, and no, this wasn't just another ghost. They knew his name, his history, his family. If they had to end his existence, they would have to live with it.

Erin knew how it felt to be responsible for ending another life. She'd done it when she opened a ghost trap on Martin Heiss. She would do everything possible to spare her friends from having to live with that feeling, especially Holtzmann. Artie had been her friend, after all.

That decided, Erin strapped on her proton pack. "Kevin, stay as far back as possible. Do not touch the weapons. Your job is only to relay anything Holtz says. Understood?" She didn't like their receptionist being there for a ghost hunt.

Kevin gave her a jaunty salute.

"Good." Erin pulled on her Ecto goggles. The blue energy signature that was Holtzmann was standing by the basement stares. "You ready, Holtz?"

Holtzmann figured she was as ready as she would ever be…

...well, except for one little adjustment. She concentrated until her overalls (psychic impression or not) morphed into her familiar orange-striped jumpsuit and her yellow-lens goggles.

"She's ready," Kevin grinned.

"Reel him in, baby. You point, we'll shoot," Patty told her.

Abby thumbed a remote in her pocket. The strains of Cat Stevens' ' _Wild World'_ boomed from the hospital's p.a. system. "That song is going to give me the creeps for the rest of my life," she grumbled.

Holtzmann waited for him at the top of the staircase.

She knew that Arthur could have found her without the music. The tune was nothing but an opening salvo signaling him that she wanted to talk, an open door. Still, as the specter appeared at the end of the hallway, it took all her will power to keep her hands at her sides instead of attacking. Her instincts warned of danger, urged her to strike. She supposed it was no different for him, for he approached cautiously.

"Jillian," he said.

"Artie."

His hands trembled, she noticed. She wondered how long he was going to be able to hold it together until Monster Artie came out to play.

"Jillian, I'm so sorry…please believe me, I only came here for your help. I didn't mean for all this to happen," he said.

"What is it you want me to do, Artie?" she asked.

He was moving closer. She forced herself to stand her ground. His hand reached out tentatively, wanting to touch her-

Her fingers twitched. Arthur saw that and paused, pulling away. He was scaring her again, he realized miserably.

"Make it stop," he answered.

"I don't know what that means."

He shook his head, slumping to the floor. "You feel it, too. The rage. The madness. Perhaps just a little bit, but you still feel it. Believe me, it gets worse…so much worse…knowing you can never wake up, you can never go back. Yes, I know what happened to me, Jillian. I heard the doctors."

She kneeled and hesitantly reached out to lay one hand against his cheek.

Arthur felt it. He couldn't recall the last time he'd felt the sensation of touching anything. It nearly undid his tenuous control of his sanity. He dared not move. "Tell me what to do," he begged her.

Holtzmann faltered.

 _There were only three options…_

 _Get him back to his body…_

 _Get him to cross over…_

 _Contain him._

 _Contain him…which would kill him._

"I want to go home," he said. "I want to hug my son. I want tell him how sorry I am for everything he must have gone through. I want to make it right. Tell me how to do that."

"I don't know."

Arthur let out a scream; Holtzmann scrambled away from him, bracing for an attack.

"You don't know?!" he snarled, eyes beginning to glow red. "You mean Jillian Holtzmann doesn't know something for once?"

She backed down the staircase; he followed.

"I can let you go…you can go back to your body…you can try again," she said.

"I've been trying for _three years_! Do you think I'm a complete git? I've been wandering the halls of that damn hospital for three years! Listening to the doctors tell my family that I'm _never_ going to wake up! Watching everything." Arthur felt his control slipping away, his ghastly countenance twisting as Holtzmann kept backing into the basement. "How do you think I knew where to find you? Ghost precognition? I saw you on t.v., you and your little friends, those Ghostbusters. Are you telling me that the Ghostbusters can't help-?"

He raised clawed fingers to strike.

Holtzmann struck first.

With a wave of her hand, boxes overturned, spilling bits of packing foam, paper, broken glass, and cardboard swirling like a small tornado around Arthur, lighting him up like a bulls-eye.

"Holtzmann, _move_!" she heard Erin yell from behind her.

Jillian feinted aside, passing through the wall to give them a clear shot at Arthur. He was caught unprepared as a stream from Patty's accelerator restrained him. "That _is_ Artie, right?" she shouted to Kevin. She hadn't actually tried snaring an invisible ghost before.

Arthur snarled at captors who could not perceive him, much less hear his cry. The humans flanked him; one held him ensnared with her weapon, the other two with weapons at the ready. The dark-haired woman who had sat with Jillian in the hospital room was now approaching with some cylindrical device that had to be one of those 'ghost traps' he had seen on the news reports.

On the other side of the wall, in one of the basement storage units, Holtzmann felt it the instant the proton accelerator flared. She was prepared for the sensation of the proton beam draining her energy even though she had distanced herself behind the wall. It was what she had designed the accelerators to do—zap the fight out of malevolent entities so they could be contained. Knowing it intellectually and experiencing it first-hand were two wildly different things.

She rallied herself, moving back to the main section of the basement. The closer she got, the greater she felt the instinct to flee, to rip the proton wand away from Patty.

She had to fight the rage.

"Holtz is back," Kevin told them.

"We see her, Kev," Erin acknowledged, not at all pleased. "Holtz, this was not the plan." _She was supposed to bring Arthur down here, a safe enough distance from the O.R. where Dr. Menken was trying to save her life. Then, she, in turn, was supposed to get a safe distance from Arthur._

"Jillian…this is not a good idea," Abby said. "You know what the streams can do to you."

Holtzmann wouldn't have answered even if they could hear her.

She owed Arthur Klein nothing.

But he had been her friend once.

She would not send him into the trap-possibly to his end-without knowing she had tried her best to save him.

She could not let him face his end alone.

Arthur glanced balefully at her. He could see the slightest tension in Holtzmann's stance, telegraphing the same weakness, the pain that burned from the stream into his soul. In a moment of lucidity, it occurred to him that he was still hurting her, despite being restrained. Briefly, the human bubbled from beneath the monster.

"Is that for me, Jillian?" He nodded to the trap Abby wielded. "Are you going to 'bust' me, too?"

"I can't wake you out of your coma, you must have known that," she told him. Hells bells, she couldn't even figure out how to get herself back to the land of the living. "Let me tell you how this works, Artie: If I put you in that trap, you'll die. We're guessing it's because body and soul can survive on two separate dimensional planes. Your body will die, your soul will be stuck in the trap. Maybe you'll cross over, maybe you'll be inside forever. I don't know. I'm kind of spit-balling on this one; these are uncharted waters we're dealing with."

Arthur chuckled. "You? 'Spit-balling'?"

"I'm known to do that from time to time," Holtzmann let out an involuntary gasp as a snap of energy from the beam snaked out to strike her arm. She backed off a step.

In the O.R., Dr. Menken froze as the monitor bleeped a familiar warning. He cursed.

The two blue blurs of energy had not moved. Arthur still struggled against the hold of the stream, nearly tearing Patty's proton wand from her grip. "What, are they catching up on old times? Holtz, I don't know what y'all are talking about, but I can't hold this creep forever!"

"That's the only option left? Imprisonment?" Arthur asked.

"Or cross over," Holtzmann answered.

"I've tried. I don't know how," he confessed.

Artie contemplated the trap and wondered what awaited inside. From the morbid expression on Jillian's face and her hesitation, it must have been rather akin one of Dante's circles of hell.

Abby knew this was going on too long, but she didn't dare set the trap—Holtz was still too close to Arthur. "Jillian, hurry!"

Arthur made a noise at the bothersome humans. With a flick of his hand, he sent the trap flying from Yates' grip. It clattered to the floor between him and Holtzmann. The foot trigger deployed, ready.

Erin didn't know which one of the come specters had summoned the trap, but she knew what would happen if it opened right then. "Holtz—get clear! You're too close to the trap!"

 _No kidding. Like the agonizing snaps of energy telegraphing from the beams around Artie to burn her as surely as if she were flesh and blood weren't a clue. As soon as the trap opened, the pain was going to increase tenfold._ Jillian had already been inside the trap once. She had no desire to go back.

 _That was kind of the problem-she had no real desire to send Artie in there, either._

"I altered your specs for the LHC. The linear particle accelerators, the super proton synchrotrons," Arthur told her. "I rewrote the program chips. I didn't tell you because I needed your help assembling them and…well, quite frankly you're terrifying when you're angry." He wondered if knowing that would make it easier for her to do what she had to do next. He regretted that she'd spent years already believing the accident had been some failure of her own engineering.

Holtzmann didn't bat an eye. "I know."

Arthur froze. "You what?!"

"Like I wouldn't know every wire and circuit board in my own machine? I went back and looked at the linear accelerators after the accident. I figured out what you did."

"Why didn't you tell Globaldyne or CERN?"

Holtzmann looked slightly guilty at that question. "I never told anyone. Not even my best friends." It was true. She had lied to Abby, her best friend, and to her mentor, Dr. Gorin. She had never told the story to Erin or Patty at all. She couldn't-they would have demanded she tell Globaldyne the truth in their concern for clearing Holtzmann's name. If she refused, one of them surely would do it for her sooner or later.

Globaldyne had kept Artie on their employee roster and paid his medical insurance for the three years since the accident to help his surviving family because Artie was the "hero" who had prevented a catastrophe in Switzerland and proved that the work at the LHC was still quite safe. A glitch, they'd called it. A few magnets damaged nothing more. Moreover, after Arthur's sister threatened a lawsuit, they paid the premiums for the fat life insurance policy that Harry would inherit when his father finally passed away.

All of that corporate generosity towards its fallen hero would go away the instant Holtzmann revealed that Arthur Klein was the cause of his own accident.

So, she figured let them blame her. She could handle the disgrace, and she _had_ handled the disgrace. She had handled quack psychiatrists branding her 'crazy'-hell, she rather found the label to be liberating once she embraced it. She had handled being broke and homeless in a train station for those few months before Abby had rescued (she'd survived being broke and homeless before, after all). She could take the hit.

Harry was a teenage boy who had already lost one parent and had another parent in a coma. He deserved every penny that could be squeezed out of Globaldyne. He deserved a family name not tainted by Arthur's mistake. He deserved a chance to go to college and have a good life, not to sink his every dollar into medical bills—and eventually into funeral expenses-until he ended up an orphan on the streets.

Arthur tried to process that. "I-I-don't understand. Why would you do that for me?"

"I didn't do it for you. I did it for a kid in London."

Artie glanced down at the trap, still struggling to hold the beast at bay. "Jillian-I-tha"

"Jillian!" Abby's voice reached her through the haze of pain. She was holding out the PKE meter, which spiked a warning as Artie writhed against the beam.

"Whoah…that guy is going full on postal again!" Kevin said, miming claws with his own fingers.

Klein threw back his head and screamed against the rage. He squeezed shut eyes that he knew were dark as blood. "I-You can't let me go-Jillian-I'll come back. I'll kill you-them-I ca-I won't be able to stop myself…" He thrashed violently against the confinement of the beam. Patty stumbled, nearly falling, trying to hang on.

Holtzmann took a step back. "Artie—"

Erin saw a sliver of space between the blue energy signatures. "She's moving."

"I _cannot_ hold this creep much longer!" Patty warned.

Abby unhooked her own wand. Her thumb hovered above the trigger. She watches the two forms through the visor. "She's still too close to him!" Abby tried to be patient; she understood this wasn't easy for Holtzmann. She wasn't sure if she could have done it, either, if she were in Holtz's place. "Jillian, _please_ -get clear! We can't fire another beam when you're that close, we might hit you."

Erin saw the spike in the spectrometer. "Arthur's getting stronger…shifting out of the new parameters Holtzmann programmed into the accelerator." Erin had watched Kevin make the calibrations under Holtz's direction. She had picked up the gist of it. "I'm going to try to compensate, give me one minute."

Again, the proton wand was nearly ripped from Patty's hands. "Yeah, I don't think so."

Erin caught Abby's grim expression. They both came to the same conclusion, but Abby was the one to say it aloud: "Holtz's not going to do it."

"Abby, when I saw 'now', fire a restraining beam at Holtz," Erin ordered.

"Are you kidd-?"

Erin ran for the trap, and Abby figured out what her friend had in mind.

Arthur saw her coming. He whirled, still trying to twist out of the proton steam, brandishing claws and fangs at the human. Erin still saw only shapeless blue; she was unaware when Arthur freed one arm. He lashed out, intending to rip out her throat.

Erin couldn't see the attack, but Holtzmann did.

Feeling an anger that had nothing to do with 'ghost psychosis', Holtzmann jumped onto Arthur's back. She hooked one arm around his neck, pulling him off-balance. She bit her lip against a scream when her leg raked the proton stream and sent a fresh spasm of pain into her every nerve, concentrating on hanging on. With her free hand, she grabbed Arthur's outstretched wrist and yanked it away. The talons missed Erin's neck by mere inches.

Arthur reached over his shoulder and pitched Holtzmann to the floor. She landed on her back, staring up as he roared down at her, his face again distorted and unrecognizable. Inhuman.

Lost.

Erin saw the mass of blue energy separate into two distinct forms: " _Now, Abby_!"

Erin dove for sees the trap. Her foot stomped on the trigger in the same instant that Abby fired the restraining beam. The white light of the trap hit Arthur in the same instant that the proton beam latched onto Holtzmann like a lifeline. Abby felt it catch. She pulled with all her might, dragging Jillian away as the trap sprang open.

It was a very painful lifeline; Holtz let out another involuntary cry.

The pull of the trap is going to be more intense than Abby had anticipated (of course, she was usually trying to push the ghost into the trap, not playing tug-o-war with the box). It was going to be more power than the proton beam. She could feel its power dragging in Holtzmann.

"Erin, help!" Abby yelled.

Erin spun, drawing her own weapon. She saw the danger at once and risked firing a second beam around Holtzmann.

Holtzmann's senses were fully overloaded with the burning pain of the twin beams and the blinding light emanating from the trap. Distantly, she heard Abby yelling: "Just a couple more seconds, Jillian, hang on!"

Through blurring vision, Holtzmann saw Monster Artie engulfed in the light of the trap. She thought he glanced at her one last time.

Then, he was gone. The trap snapped shut.

The Ghostbusters cut the proton streams. The energy from the trap had overloaded their visors. They waited an agonizing few seconds for the goggles to reset.

"Jillian?" A called to the empty air. "Kevin—is she all right?"

Then the distortion in the visors readings cleared and they could clearly see one blue energy signature still there.

The trio looked to Kevin.

He gave them the thumbs up.

In the evacuated O.R., Menken and his surgical team had been hesitating as Holtzmann's vitals kept fluctuating. Several times, their patient had nearly gone into v-fib. The doctor reckoned that no amount of medical school could prepare one for trying to perform surgery in a hospital overrun by ghosts.

Finally, she seem to stabilize.

He supposed it was no coincidence that, only a couple minutes after she was back in normal sinus rhythm, three faces that had become all too familiar in the past thirty-six hours gathered outside the glass doors, peering through the window.

Six worried eyes sought Dr. Menken's with one unspoken question.

The lecture could wait until his patient was safely in recovery. For now, Menken settled for offering the Ghostbusters the slightest affirmative nod of his head.

They smiled back, their relief plain.

"Right… I take it we're safe to continue then," he nodded to his own team.

They waited.

They did their best to be comfortable in the two stiff chairs and the tiny couch. They watched television, loaded up on coffee from the donut shop around the corner. They ordered Chinese food from their favorite restaurant and Abby complained about the ridiculous amount of wontons in her soup.

Kevin decided it was his personal duty to entertain 'ghost Holtzmann' since he was the only one who could see or hear her at the moment. He told her stories about growing up in Australia, and Holtz did her best to pay attention. He begged her to test her temporary telekinetic skills, but all he could think of for a game was having her float a deck of cards into a bedpan one at a time. He found an 80's station on his tiny portable radio.

She refused to talk about Arthur

They waited.

Holtzmann slept.

Ten more hours passed this way.

Dr. Menken would have loved to have thrown the whole lot of them out of the hospital (or better still have them arrested) for endangering his patient during her surgery. Ms. Lynch arrived with an envelope for Patty in time to overhear this last bit. She soothed his fragile ego with a reminder that being the doctor who saved a Ghostbuster's life would probably net enough donations to run the hospital for another year.

On his third trip to check on Holtzmann, Menken actually smiled. "She's improving," he informed them.

"Does that mean she's going to wake up soon?" Abby asked hopefully.

"If you can refrain from exposing her to any more of your high school science lab toys, I'm optimistic about her chances," he said.

"Whoah, what?" Holtzmann had been telekinetically stacking cards into a house and knocking them over. "What the hell did he just call my babies?"

"High school science lab toys," Kevin helped.

"What Kevin?" Abby asked from her spot beside the bed.

"Holtz is mad."

Erin glanced at the Holtzmann who was lying in the hospital bed. Sure enough, her face-slack in repose for almost two full days now-relaxed into a frown. The hand that Abby was holding twitched; Abby startled at the sudden movement. Menken had his back to the bed, his attention occupied by making notes on his clipboard.

Abby waved Patty over to the bed, gesturing to Holtzmann. "Watch," Erin mouthed to Patty.

Erin cleared her throat and addressed Menken: "Don't you think you're being a little ungrateful, Doctor? I mean, you did have a dangerous apparition loose in your hospital."

"Ungrateful? For what? I should have all of you arrested for putting the entire hospital at risk for radiation poisoning and whatever the hell other contaminates these contraptions are putting out-" he rambled.

Ghost Holtzmann was on her feet now.

In the bed, Holtzmann's brow furrowed.

Patty was about to say something, but Abby and Erin shook their heads.

"-and I asked you to keep your toxic tinker toys out of my hospital, not have a ghost fight in our basement." He indicated the PKE meter, which Abby had kept in the room just in case Artie really wasn't tucked away in the trap.

" _Tinker Toys_?" Ghost Holtzmann purred dangerously.

"He definitely said 'Tinker Toys'. You shouldn't be offended. People like Tinker Toys," Kevin said.

Holtzmann wasn't putting up with insults. "Oh. Hell. No." She made a beeline for the doctor. Kevin tried to intercept her, but his hands kept passing through the specter each time he made a grab for her.

Then, she was gone. One second, she'd been there, the next Kevin was staring, perplexed, at the space where she had only just been standing a moment earlier.

In the bed, Holtzmann's mouth had curled into definite scowl now. Menken was checking the monitors and still hadn't noticed. Erin, Abby, and Patty, however, were about to jump out their skin for excitement.

Patty egged on the doctor: "What do you think we ought to do with them, Doc?"

"Preferably take them to a hazardous waste facility-I'm going to have to do a full decontamination of this entire facility thanks to those pieces of junk-"

Whatever else he intended to say was muffled when a small hand seized hold of his lower lip and yanked rather viciously, pulling his face-and by extension, the upper half of his body-down to the bed.

He found himself staring into a pair of half-open blue eyes.

Jillian mumbled a groggy warning: "Nobody…insults…my babies…"

Holtzmann kept her grip on the squirming man's lips even as Abby carefully but joyfully wrapped her arms across Jillian's shoulders-mindful not to jostle her friend's healing ribs and stomach-and hugged with all her might. Erin wedged herself between Menken and the nightstand. She squeezed Holtzmann's shoulder with one hand while trying to extricate the doctor from her grip with the other. Patty also moved to help rescue Menken…mostly because he was blocking Patty's path to join in hugging her friend.

"Damn, baby girl," Patty said as she tried to pry Holtzmann's fingers away from Menken's mouth, "You are surprisingly strong for a woman who's been in a coma for two days…"


	7. Chapter 7

_A.N.: Last chapter folks. Sincerely hope you like it. Same warnings for language, themes, etc. Also, I'm going to get_ really _a.u. here at the end, but I'll explain myself afterwards. Nothing offensive, so don't get nervous._

 **7**

"… **By Any Other Name"**

Holtzmann really didn't want to be awake.

Wakefulness was only coming in about ten minute increments, but what wretched intervals they were. Her head ached like someone had used it for a piñata. Her ribs sent little spikes of pain radiating whenever she breathed to deep. The incision in her abdomen managed to be both sore and itchy.

And she was pretty sure she was going to puke again. She mustered every ounce of willpower trying to prevent it because-well, absurdly she wasn't so afraid of the pain that would accompany the heaves as she feared her stitches might pop or her ribs finally burst through her chest like a scene from ' _Alien_ ' or her head might just finally explode altogether.

The doctor kept reminding her she was 'lucky'. She wondered what the hell 'unlucky' felt like. She was generally as miserable as she's ever been in her life, including the two times she'd given herself electric shocks building her gadgets and the time she'd eaten that strange green stuff out of the dumpster of a Korean restaurant dumpster back in her days of living on the street.

Somebody sat something on her chest, which was the instant Holtzmann realized she still had her eyes closed. She slowly opened just one eye to see a small pink basin resting there. Her eye followed the hand offering the basin up its arm to the face of the person offering it.

"Ugh-Erin. Quick, get a hammer. Finish me off," Jillian begged.

"Don't joke about that," Erin admonished her.

Holtzmann grunted, turning her face into the pillow as if she could hide from the nausea that threatened. "Not joking. Hammer. Now."

It was nearly midnight. Erin was sitting with Holtzmann while Abby and Patty got caught up on some much needed sleep. They had turned the scant space in the hospital room into a makeshift campsite. Abby was curled up in a sleeping bag on the floor while Patty was doing her best get comfortable on the tiny sofa.

Erin thought Holtz had gone back to sleep until she heard the muffled words. "Had a dream…some guy insulted my babies…" One blue eye peered at Erin over the folds of the pillow.

"If it makes you feel better, Dr. Menken was only unconscious for a little while...and he only needed one stitch for his lip," Erin said cheerfully.

The blue eye blinked once at her, then drifted shut again. "Coma guy number six. Terrific."

Erin sighed. She really wasn't very good at comforting people, even people she's close to, and she still felt a little awkward with Holtzmann. She hadn't yet developed the same rapport with that Abby and Patty seem to have with the eccentric engineer. "I thought it was five?"

"You forgot Martin Heiss."

It never crossed Erin's mind that Holtzmann would think Heiss' accident was her fault in any way. "I think he's _my_ coma guy. I mean, I opened the trap."

"Technically I was still in the room."

Erin tried to change the subject. "I got you a present for when you're feeling better." She pulled a small paper bag from her purse and set it on the nightstand.

Holtzmann perked up a bit; she opened her eyes for a few seconds. The faint light was like a knife in her aching head, so she closed them again almost immediately. Just that little bit of motion threatened to set off another wave of nausea. "Is it those hydrospanners I've been asking for?" she asked.

"No, no, mostly because those only exist in _Star Wars_ ," Erin said.

Holtz smirked. "Darn…you figured that out."

Shortly after they'd formed the Ghostbusters, Holtzmann had found out that Erin rarely watched movies or television. The engineer quickly invented her own version of a 'snipe hunt'. It involved giving Erin a shopping list of items Holtz wanted her to purchase for the lab…invariably with one item that was some non-existent tool mentioned in some science fiction flick. After spending three hours one afternoon driving all the way to Maryland searching hardware stores for a 'hyposprayer' (apparently a ' _Star Trek_ ' gizmo of some kind, according to the obnoxious, pimple-pocked teenage clerk at the Costco), Erin finally got wise to Holtz's game.

"No, it's a new cell phone, since…" Erin cut herself off. She'd been about to say: _since your old one melted._

Since Holtzmann woke up, they had all been carefully avoiding talking about Arthur Klein around her. She had naturally wanted to know how she'd ended up in the hospital. She remembered the ghost attack in her apartment up to the part where the toilet tank lid had connected with her skull, but after that Holtz's only recollection was waking up with a vice grip on Menken's mouth.

She had demanded to know the rest of the story; they had relented and told her most of what had happened only because their avoiding the question was making her more agitated and she needed to keep still and rest.

There were, of course, certain omissions to the story. They would not talk about the likelihood that Arthur hadn't survived inside the ghost trap. She didn't need to know yet. The Ghostbusters had not been privy to whatever he and Holtzmann had said to each other near the end. Those details were probably lost forever.

Holtzmann was mainly pissed off that she'd had an out of body experience-and telekinesis to boot-and couldn't remember it (Kevin had blabbed, which was why they had bundled him back to the firehouse with several decks of cards and instructions to build a nice house of cards in the corner under the ceiling fan).

She appreciated the gesture, but had to remind Erin: "Thanks, but unless it's a Tracfone you might have to return it. Can't afford a fancy cell phone."

"Company treat."

"In that case, I hope you signed me up for unlimited music streaming."

"Of course."

Holtzmann had nearly drifted back to sleep when a stray thought bubbled to her mind. She turned her head slightly so she could look at Erin again.

"Is he dead?" Holtzmann wanted to know. "Artie?"

She had the impression that her friends thought he might be dead. The traps weren't lethal for ghosts, not normally, not as far as Holtzmann knew. When they told her about trapping Arthur's ghost, Erin had made a point five different time that she had been the one who put Arthur's ghost in the trap. _Her_ responsibility, not Abby or Patty and not Holtz's. Holtzmann had wondered why Erin kept harping on that detail. It was irrelevant who triggered the trap. It only mattered if Erin had reason to think Arthur wouldn't survive the trap.

Erin fidgeted in the chair, a sure sign that she was thinking up some way to change the subject, soften the blow, or simply deny it. Finally, she decided truth was best and simply said: "Honestly? I don't know."

Holtz seemed to accept that answer.

There was something else Erin had wanted to ask while she had Holtzmann to herself for a minute, something she would feel awkward discussing in front of Abby and Patty, but she really didn't know if this was the appropriate time. Holtzmann still wasn't completely lucid; Erin should just let her go back to sleep. On the other hand, maybe being groggy and heavily medicated would dull some of Holtzmann's defenses so that Erin could get a straight answer from the woman. It felt slightly like being sneaky.

Erin decided she could live with that.

"You know…about that…" she began

Holtzmann waited.

"I saw on your phone that you tried to call me when Artie was att-" Erin rephrased it. "-back at your apartment. I mean, you called the firehouse first, which is absolutely what I would have done, too, but then you tried to call me…" Erin put her head in her hands so Holtz wouldn't see her ears turning red. She was rambling like a moron. "…I'm just…I was surprised…but, I'm happy that you would have trusted me, you know, to help in your hour of need and all. I think it shows we've come al-"

She saw Holtzmann had a strange look on her face.

"-what? What's that face? You're going to poop on my joy bubble, aren't you? You're going to say you were going to prank call me once more before the afterlife or something? I've been thinking we were starting to become real friends here and I was an accidental butt dial, wasn't I?"

Holtzmann weakly waved a hand to cut off her tirade. It was making her headache worse. "No, no. Easy there. Dial down the neurosis." She closed her eyes for a second. When she opened them again, she stared blearily at the ceiling, avoiding Erin's gaze. "The truth? You're not going to like it."

Erin said nothing. Holtzmann assumed that was a 'yes'.

"I didn't think any of you were going to get there in time," she admitted.

Erin felt something like a fist squeezing her heart.

"I was pretty sure I was going to die. I mean, die horribly. Like, Artie was going to rip me apart, and you'd be finding pieces of me in the Fichus kind of horrible death." Holtzmann was turning a bit pale recalling it.

"We shouldn't be talking about this right now," Erin already regretted asking.

"You and Patty…Patty can deal with anything. She's like that." Holtzmann observed. "And you…you got that way of being all…clinical…when you need to be. I know you and Patty could deal with that. I knew Abby couldn't. I tried to call you because I wanted you to be there first…I didn't want Abby to be the one."

That was literally the last thing Erin had expected Holtz to say. All she could say in response was: "Oh."

Holtzmann continued to stare at the ceiling, her cheeks flushing red against her too-pale skin. "I said you wouldn't like it.

The silence became awkward again. Erin wished everything didn't have to be awkward with her and Holtzmann. Maybe someday it wouldn't be. "Actually…I'm still choosing to take that as a compliment."

"Whatever floats your boat profes-" Holtzmann started to answer. She stopped and clutched at her stomach suddenly, eyes opening wide. Erin knows immediately she was going to be sick. Erin rushed to help her sit up, grabbing the basin for her.

Holtzmann's vision was still blurry. She missed the basin, in fact, she missed the bed entirely and ended up puking on Erin's shoes instead.

"Sorry," she coughed.

"S'okay." Erin patted her shoulder. "It's kind of predictable by now."

"Morning, sunshine!" Patty's enthusiastic boom in the tiny hospital room effectively quashed Holtmann's brooding.

It had been a few days since her surgery; Holtzmann was feeling markedly better-at least, she was mostly lucid and could stay awake for more than ten minutes at a time. She had hounded Dr. Menken to let her go home, but he seemed determined to keep her prisoner there. The other Ghostbusters were on the doctor's side, and that was that. Holtzmann would have no choice but to smuggle herself out in a laundry cart and barricade herself in her lab.

Holtzmann grunted in response to Patty's cheerful greeting. She'd never been a morning person even when she wasn't sporting a head injury and cracked ribs. She supposed she should be grateful that she still had her spleen at least (although the upside of a splenectomy would be that Holtzmann could have had some serious fun freaking people out by keeping it in a jar in her lab. She did have a reputation for being crazy to uphold, after all.).

This morning hasn't started off well to boot. Holtzmann had been reading the newspaper that Kevin delivered with the donut shop coffee. Inside the paper was the article she had hoped not to see: The notice that Arthur Klein, renowned nuclear physicist, had passed away after a three year coma.

Abby swore that they had done everything they could to stop Artie, but he was just too far gone. She added that Holtz had risked her own life trying to reason with Klein when it was apparent that he was beyond reasoning. Erin maintained that she was the one who decided to open the trap on him, the decision that ultimately ended his existence. She'd apologized until Holtz had finally threatened her with bodily harm if she didn't stop begging forgiveness when there was no reason for her to be sorry.

"How ya feeling, baby?" Patty pulled the chair up to the bed, grinning widely to find her friend awake and looking a little bit better. She kept her voice down in deference to Abby, who was still curled up asleep on the sofa. "Erin's grabbing us some food, and I brought your robe…the nurses are tired of Bugs giving them the finger every time you don't feel like taking your medicine."

Wincing, Holtzmann tried sitting up, but her ribs protested and her vision swam a bit, threatening a fresh bout of nausea. Patty helped her rearrange the pillows and settle into a somewhat more comfortable position, feeling just the tiniest bit guilty. "Still pretty sore? Sorry."

"For what? I'm grateful, believe me. I hear you saved my life… _again_." Holtzmann said. "This is getting ridiculous. Soon as I'm out of here, you have to give me a chance to even the score. Let me push you out of the path of a bus or throw myself on a grenade or something."

Patty smiled. "It's nice to have a conversation with you that doesn't rely on using Kevin as your interpreter." Her smile faded a bit when she saw that the newspaper is open to the obituary for Artie. There was nothing she could say that was going to make Holtzmann feel better. _It was so much easier busting ghosts when you didn't know them personally._ "Kevin told us what Artie said to you about the accident."

Holtzmann uttered an oath. She wasn't sure if she was mad because her secret was out, that she couldn't remember anything she and Arthur had said to each other, or because Arthur had forced them to drastic measures. Collectively, it all aggravated her. She was glad the Ghostbusters were the only ones who knew what had become of Arthur after the coma. They would never tell his family. However, if her friends got it into their heads to clear Jillian's reputation in the science community, everything she had sacrificed trying to protect Artie's family, his son, would be for nothing. "You're not going to tell CERN-?"

Patty shook her head. "You got to trust us. That's not our decision to make, Holtz. If you want to take the blame, we'll respect that. It's just not fair to have your life ruined because of that fool."

Holtzmann looked at her best friend as she slept on the uncomfortable couch in the corner. She saw the other chairs in the room, piled with blankets and pillows where Patty and Erin had camped out for the past week. One of the other Ghostbusters had been with Holtzmann at all times since she'd been brought to the hospital, not wanting her to be alone. Nobody had cared about her like that since…she supposed her adopted parents were the last ones to care that much.

The tiny hospital room had been overloaded with balloons and stuffed animals sent by well-wishers after news broke about the Ghostbuster being injured in a fight with a specter. Kevin told her there were three more mail bags stuffed with cards and letters waiting for her at the firehouse. Her neighbor, Brian, had played up Holtzmann saving his daughter from the ghost-they had sent her a bear with tiny felt fangs sewn on to its mouth. Holtzmann had dubbed the bear 'Mr. Snickers II'.

For the moment, it didn't seem to her that things had turned out so badly in the end. "Maybe I don't see ruins."

Patty smiled. "Okay, well…hold that thought."

Holtzmann was wary. "Why…what'd you do?"

She suddenly spied the large manila envelope tucked in Patty's handbag. It was stamped with some kind of very official-looking government seal. "Don't be mad," Patty asked.

"Don't do something that's going to _make_ me mad."

Patty took a deep breath. "Here it is: This whole business with you almost-" She couldn't bring herself to say the actual word 'dying'. It still sent a shiver of terror down her spine how close Holtzmann had come to death—several times over-in the past few days. "You know I love you all, right? You and Erin and Abby, and Kevin too, you're family to me. I'd do just about anything for any one of you."

She pulled the envelope from her bag and offered it to Holtzmann. "Abby told me you've been looking for this for a long time, so I called in one of our favors with the mayor."

"What is it?" Holtzmann was nervous now. _Maybe they had ratted her out to CERN and Globaldyne after all._

Patty was blunt: "It's your adoption file and your birth certificate."

" _What_?!" Holtzmann yelped louder than intended. She tried to sit up, until her body reminded her that wasn't a good idea.

Abby woke immediately at her friend's shout, reflexively reaching for the empty place on her belt where the proton wand would normally hang even before she was fully awake. "Wha-? Jillian-?"

"She's fine," Patty said.

"Sorry, Abs," Holtzmann added. She stared at Patty in disbelief. "This is my adoption file?"

"You don't have to look at it if it's too weird for you…I just thought you should have it, just in case."

 _This was too weird_. Jillian fingered the envelope. She'd always had mixed feelings about looking for her birth parents. The Holtzmanns were her parents as far as she was concerned. Her biological parents had given her up. Her foster families hadn't known what to do with the strange, brilliant little girl. The Holtzmanns were the only ones who had wanted Jillian unconditionally as their own.

After all the times Holtz had tried and failed to find information on her biological family, she had finally given up. She never expected to have the file in her hand like this.

"What does it say?" she asked Patty.

"I wouldn't read it-look, it's sealed."

"Patty…"

"Okay, fine, I peeked, but only because I wasn't going to be able to stand it if you decided not to open it or set it on fire or something. But, I'm not telling you anything. You want to know you look for yourself." Patty leaned back in the chair and crossed her arms, resolute.

Holtzmann hesitated for a very long time. Finally, she tore open the seal and hesitantly pulled out the file folder inside. She was still having trouble keeping her eyes focused with the concussion and pain killers messing her up. She held out the folder to Abby, beckoning her to come sit. "Still having a little trouble focusing. Read it for me, Abs?"

Abby perched on the end of the bed, thumbing through the file. "It says…well, the good news is your biological mom is still alive. She's a retired school teacher living in Delaware. But, your biological father passed away a couple of months after you were born. Sorry, Jillian."

Holtzmann was a bit disappointed to hear it. She had no idea how she should be feeling to hear about the loss of a father she never even met.

"Your parents weren't married," Abby continued. "In fact, looks like there was some confusion about who your dad was. There are a couple of paternity tests in here."

"Ooh…mom was a bad girl. Nice!" Holtzmann grinned.

Erin chose that moment to make her return, bearing a breakfast tray loaded with yogurt, fruit, and Jell-O. "Dr. Menken threatened to ban us from the hospital if we snuck you a donut, Holtz. Sorry. You can pick from red, yellow, or orange Jell-O. What did I miss?"

"Paternity tests," Patty said.

That answer confused Erin all the more. "Is one of us pregnant?"

"No, not for us. It's Holtz's adoption file." Patty snatched a cup of yogurt from the tray.

"Bachelor number one was a Louis Tully. Oh, wow, yikes…" Abby bit her tongue at the inadvertent gaff, realizing she could have been talking about Holtz's dad. "…sorry, just, he must not photograph well. Bachelor number two is…oh, a doctor! Dr. Egon Spengler." Abby frowned. _Who names their kid 'Egon'?_ "Physicist, 160 I.Q. Do I even need to tell you who won the paternal lottery?"

"I've actually heard of him," Erin said. "He's your dad? That explains so much..."

"Yeah, yeah, get to Holtzmann's mom, Abby," P urged. "This is like _Days of Our Lives_ meets _Big Bang Theory_."

A continued, "Okay, drumroll: Jillian Holtzmann was born Jillian Melnitz."

Holtzmann wrinkled her nose a bit. "My name is 'Melnitz'?"

"No offense, but I think we'll keep calling you Holtzmann," Patty agreed.

"Janine Melnitz. It says she put you up for adoption because…oh, she was diagnosed with ovarian cancer right after your father passed away. God, she must have thought she was going to die, too. She wanted to find a family to take care of you after she was gone. Only, turns out she's a survivor like her daughter." Abby squeezed Jillian's leg.

"So, I'm Jillian Spengler-Melnitz Holtzmann?"

"Whoah, that is not going to fit on your jumpsuit. We'll have to get you a name badge the size of a license plate," Patty says.

"At least you know who she is now. You could look her up if you wanted," Erin suggested.

"Eh," Holtzmann scratched her head nervously. "I don't know. I'm kind of in the middle of recovering from my last blast from the past. Maybe it's better to leave it alone."

"Family is still family," Abby said.

Agreeing wholeheartedly, Holtzmann reached out and pulled Abby and Patty the two closest (and surprised) Ghostbusters into a grateful hug, only wincing a little bit at the tug on her stomach and ribs. She waved to Erin. "Come on, professor, get over here. I promise not to puke on you this time."

Erin rolled her eyes. "You know, we were this close to having a moment…if you just hadn't mentioned puke."

Which didn't stop Erin from collecting her hug.

Fin

** _Author's Note: This last bit was for my own amusement. When I saw the first photos from the new movie, Holtzmann just reminded me of Egon from the "Real Ghostbusters" cartoon with that wild blonde hair and those goggles, so I couldn't resist. It's AU, so I figured I'd indulge myself._


End file.
